THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE   SANDS   OF    PLEASURE 


?    Sands    of 
Pleasure 


Author  o< 

•The  Happy  Motorist,"  "Venus  and  Cupid,  an  Impression," 
•  Ireland  at  the  Crossroads,"  "  Christopher  Columbus,"  etc. 


BOSTON 

THE  ST.  BOTOLPH  SOCIETY 
53  Beacon  Street 


Copyright,  Nov.  23,  1905 
E.  GRANT  RICHARDS  AND  FILSON  YOUNG 

All  rights  reserved 


ps 


Co  0.  K. 

When  in  the  pride  of  life  our  steps  go  down 
And  mingle  lightly  with  the  unresting  throng 
Of  souls  released  from  sense  of  right  and  wrong 
To  wear  the  fetters  of  our  smile  or  frown. 
How  dusty  with  the  dust  of  street  and  town 
Grow  then  our  garments,  and  how  harsh  the  song 
Of  voices  that  once  charmed  us.  when  too  strong 
We  hear  the  strains  our  laughter  cannot  drown  I 
Yet  cwld  we  dwell  beyond  the  whirl  and  moil 
By  some  loud  ocean  shore  or  mountain  steep, 
And  drink  the  wine  of  loneliness  too  deep 
Ever  to  thirst  again,  we  sonn  should  yield 
To  easy  shimber,  drugged  by  salt  and  soil, 
And  rest  forgetful  of  the  strenuous  Jield. 


"  Ne  creator  nb  creatura  mai 
fusenza  emore." 


PUBLISHER'S   NOTE 


FOR  the  benefit  of  readers  who  may  be  puzzled 
by  certain  references  in  this  story  the  pub 
lisher  wishes  to  explain  that  the  lighthouses, 
lightships,  and  fog-signals  around  the  British 
Islands  are  under  the  control  of  a  body  known  as 
the  Corporation  of  Trinity  House.  This  corpo 
ration,  consisting  of  a  certain  number  of  Elder 
Brethren  and  Younger  Brethren,  who  are  for  the 
most  part  retired  sea-captains  and  naval  officers, 
collects  certain  dues  from  the  merchant  shipping 
of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  and  applies  them 
to  the  erection  and  maintenance  of  lighthouses. 

The  publisher  may  also  remind  American  read 
ers  that  monastic  communities  still  exist  in  Eng 
land,  among  them  several  houses  of  the  Cister 
cian  or  Trappist  Order. 


TO  THE    READER 


TF  a  man's  work  be  not  its  own  apology  he  will 
hardly  mend  or  excuse  it  by  more  words.  "  I 
had  a  story  to  tell;  I  have  told  it  as  well  as  I 
knew  how  "  —  that  ought  to  be  enough,  and  more 
than  enough,  for  me  to  say  about  this  book.  But 
in  this  age  good  taste  greatly  busies  itself  about 
matters  of  social  morality;  and  has  decreed,  with 
what  wisdom  I  do  not  pretend  to  measure,  that 
this  subject  and  that,  very  urgent  though  they 
may  be  in  the  life  of  man,  shall  not  be  written 
or  read  about  in  books  designed  merely  for  the 
entertainment  of  his  mind.  I  have  disobeyed  this 
decree,  and  cast  a  great  part  of  my  tale  in  a 
region  held,  under  the  rules  of  good  taste,  to  be 
out  of  bounds;  and  it  is  in  justice  to  readers  who 
expect  their  authors  to  be  subject  to  this  rule  that 
I  now  advertise  my  breach  and  disregard  of  it. 
The  profession  of  Toni  is  a  very  ancient  one,  and 
has  been  held  honorable  in  other  times  than  ours; 
and  although  in  spite  of  the  determined  idealism 
of  some  people  who  write  and  speak  of  it  in  igno 
rance  it  is  in  fact  dishonorable  and  degraded, 
its  social  influence  is  too  great  to  be  ignored. 
xi 


xii  TO    THE   READER 

In  obscure  ways  it  impinges  upon  some  of  the 
finest  characters  among  mankind,  takes  its  part 
in  their  education,  and  through  them  makes  its 
mark  on  the  whole  world.  But  whether  we  regard 
it  as  a  social  disorder,  or  as  a  social  necessity,  or 
simply  as  an  integral  part  of  our  civilization,  to 
be  accepted  as  unavoidable  and  uncontrollable, — 
in  whatever  way  we  regard  it,  it  remains  impor 
tant  and  worthy  of  all  the  intelligent  and  sympa 
thetic  study  which  the  sociologist  can  bring  to 
bear  on  it. 

What  it  is  doing  in  a  work  of  art,  you  may  say, 
is  another  question.  But  the  business  of  literature 
is  with  the  whole  of  life;  and  my  business,  in 
such  contributions  to  literature  as  I  may  attempt 
to  make,  is  with  all  of  the  life  of  my  time  that 
I  can  see  and  grasp.  The  life  of  man  in  this 
moment  of  the  world's  history,  and  all  that  per 
tains  to  or  affects  it  —  that  I  believe  to  be  the 
raw  material  available  for  the  writer  of  fiction 
who  is  willing  to  risk  failure  in  some  better  cause 
than  the  manufacture  of  the  novel  of  commerce. 
Into  my  view  and  knowledge  of  the  world  imme 
diately  about  me  come  Richards  innumerable,  and 
Tonis  not  so  many;  and  to  the  making  of  char 
acter  go  not  only  the  influences  of  the  wise  and 
good  in  man,  but  also  of  the  foolish  and  base. 
The  collision  of  influences,  of  the  sane  mind  with 
what  is  socially  insane,  produces  daily  results  that 
are  surprising,  but  always  instructive  to  men  and 


TO    THE  READER  xiii 

women  who  are  at  all  capable  of  finding  interest 
in  humane  matters  at  large;  and  no  one  can  be 
said  to  appreciate  character  in  the  modern  world 
who  does  not  recognize  the  existence  of  this 
among  other  social  influences,  and  know  at  least 
something  of  how  it  works.  Not  hysterically,  or 
with  shudderings  and  averted  eyes;  that  is  not 
recognition,  nor  are  such  attitudes  becoming  in 
the  student;  but  calmly  and  without  dismay,  dis 
entangling  the  individual  interest  and  merit  from 
the  confused  mass.  It  is  obviously  impossible  that 
every  one  should  Jcnow  the  half-world  at  first 
hand;  but  there  is  every  reason  why  mature 
people  should  read  about  it,  not  bitterly  or  un 
pleasantly,  but  as  pleasantly  as  possible,  in  the 
mirror  of  a  page  written  without  moral  preoccu 
pations.  For  if  there  be  a  moral  in  this  tale  (and 
I  think  there  is)  it  comes  assuredly  from  the  inci 
dents  themselves,  and  not  from  my  view  of  them. 
My  aim  was  simply  to  exhibit  a  character  in  one 
of  those  moments  of  change  and  influence  which 
in  some  form  or  other  come  to  us  all  and  test  the 
ballast  and  steering-gear  of  our  lives. 

For  the  rest  it  is  wholesome  to  study  the  fixed 
amid  the  fluent,  to  trace  what  is  (in  our  phrase) 
eternal  amid  what  changes  with  the  ages.  Rich 
ard  in  Maxim's  is  a  figure  of  our  day,  in  a  scene 
highly  typical  of  our  day,  and,  in  its  details  at 
least,  peculiar  to  it;  but  his  ordeal  there  is  a 
part  of  man's  unchanging  trial  in  the  world.  If 


xiv  TO    THE   READER 

it  6e  of  interest  to  waicli  the  changing  face  of 
nature,  and  to  trace  on  some  down  or  moorland 
signs  of  the  war  and  peace  of  a  thousand  years 
ago,  to  see  in  imagination  forests  green  and  leafy 
where  now  are  only  the  heather  and  the  wind; 
of  how  much  more  interest  is  it  to  trace  the  secular 
rings  and  mark  our  microscopic  notches  on  that 
other  plant  of  time  which,  like  the  Life-tree 
Igdrasil,  "  has  its  roots  down  in  the  kingdoms  of 
Hcla  and  Death,  and  whose  boughs  overspread 
the  Highest  Heaven." 


BOOK  1 
THE    BUILDER 

BOOK   II 
THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS 

BOOK  III 
THE   HOUSE   ON   THE   ROCK 


BOOK  I 
THE   BUILDER 


THE    SANDS    OF 
PLEASURE 


afternoon  was  filled  with  sound  and  sun- 
JL  shine.  About  one  of  those  grim  promon 
tories  that  are  England's  foothold  in  the  Atlantic 
the  waves  were  rolling  in,  long  and  lazy,  like 
seaworn  travellers  too  weary  for  anything  but  the 
sudden  rest  of  the  shore.  A  mild  breeze  from 
the  south  heralded  them  with  airs  redolent  of  the 
freshness  of  their  long  voyage,  and  hovered  above 
the  foam  and  commotion  of  their  landfall. 

The  land  there  goes  down  to  the  sea,  slowly  and 
majestically,  without  haste  or  abruptness.  Ten 
miles  inland  the  world  of  railway  and  town  ends, 
and  the  preparation  for  this  august  meeting  of 
land  and  sea  begins.  The  changing  seasons  cover 
the  vast  expanse  of  moor  with  gorse  or  heather, 
and  in  loneliness  and  the  peace  of  salt  fresh  airs 
earth  makes  ready  to  keep  her  tryst.  An  almost 
savage  solemnity  envelops  these  rolling  golden 

19 


20  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

miles ;  only  the  sea,  like  an  impatient  bridegroom, 
sends  scouts  and  heralds  whose  white  wings  and 
wild  voices  hover  above  the  gorse.  A  little  farther, 
and  earth  takes  her  farewell  of  man:  a  few 
minute  hamlets  sheltering  in  the  valleys  that 
begin  to  seam  the  promontory;  a  few  scattered 
farms,  a  few  bleak  churches  where  the  voice  of 
prayer  mingles  with  the  strong  winds;  and  then 
from  great  scarps  and  bastions  of  rock,  from 
grass-covered  cliffs  and  steeps  of  serpentine,  she 
goes  down  to  receive  the  long  kisses  of  the  waves. 
They  are  cold  or  passionate,  those  kisses,  savage 
or  tender,  according  to  the  mood  of  the  sea.  In 
this  Cornish  place  and  on  this  afternoon  they 
were  warm  and  gentle  and  passionless,  a  great 
and  quiet  tide  of  fluent  life  that  swept  up  to  and 
enveloped  the  shore.  The  sound  of  them  filled 
the  air  with  a  continuous  murmur  of  varying 
harmonies  that  rose  and  fell  along  the  sweeping 
coast  of  the  promontory.  About  its  outer  points, 
where  the  rocks  went  down  into  deep  water  like 
the  teeth  of  a  saw,  the  quiet  waves  frayed  them 
selves  into  fleece  and  foam,  and  divided  with  a 
belt  of  moving  white  the  gray  old  rock  from  the 
hazy  blue  of  the  sea.  A  few  sailing-ships  leaned 
to  the  breeze,  standing  in  to  take  their  last  sight 
of  land  for  many  a  week  and  to  make  their  num 
bers  to  the  signal-station  on  the  hill;  and  here 
and  there,  on  the  same  broad  pathway,  the  smoke 
of  steamers  smudged  the  long  level  of  the  horizon. 


THE   BUILDER  21 

Yet  in  a  large  view  nothing  seemed  alive  and 
moving  but  the  waves;  and  even  they  only  took 
shape  as  they  neared  the  shore  and  felt  the  check 
of  the  land.  In  long  straight  lines  of  darker  blue 
the  furrows  rose  from  their  bed  of  glittering 
wrinkles;  advanced  and  grew,  showed  green  and 
transparent  as  their  feet  trod  the  carpeting  of 
sand  between  the  rocks;  and  then  broke  and 
tripped,  and  spilled  and  poured  and  eddied,  and 
shot  hissing  tongues  of  snow  among  the  sun- 
warmed  barricades  of  earth. 

A  young  man  was  walking  along  the  cart-road 
that  leads  over  the  top  of  Poltesco  Head  to  the 
cliffs  and  rocks.  His  swinging  walk  was  full  of 
energy  and  happiness,  as  though  he  were  glad  on 
this  golden  afternoon  to  be  a  sharer  in  life  and 
the  world.  Above  his  head  larks  were  singing, 
and  now  and  then  the  melancholy  cry  of  a  sea 
gull  interrupted  that  happy  music ;  but  the  domi 
nating  sound  about  him  was  the  pervading  voice 
of  the  seashore  that  sent  its  rumor  up  to  him 
in  a  continuous  and  mellow  murmur.  As  he 
approached  the  seaward  end  of  the  promontory 
this  sound  increased,  so  that  the  whole  world 
seemed  to  be  filled  with  it.  The  young  man's 
step  quickened,  as  though  answering  to  a  sum 
mons;  and  suddenly  a  smile  broke  upon  his  sun 
burned  face  as,  coming  toward  the  end  of  the 
high  cart-road,  he  paused  and  seemed  to  listen. 


22  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

From  the  rocks  below  him  now  rose  another 
murmur,  higher  in  tone  than  that  of  the  waves, 
that  mingled  with  their  harmonies  and  yet  re 
mained  clearly  distinguished  from  them.  A 
metallic  and  ringing  sound  floated  above  the  land, 
a  sound  composed  of  single  and  intermittent  notes 
that  yet  formed  a  continuous  and  resonant  tone. 
Clinkings  and  hammerings,  beatings  of  iron  on 
iron  and  stone  on  stone  —  the  sound  of  human 
labor.  Enclosed  as  though  in  the  great  eternal 
shell  of  the  sea's  voices,  it  thus  became  a  kind 
of  kernel  of  music  in  this  lonely  place,  and  ar 
rested  the  attention  by  a  rare  and  precious  quality 
of  its  own.  Over  a  scene  so  glittering  and  grand, 
so  filled  with  the  influence  and  dignity  of  large 
spaces,  so  salted  and  sweetened  by  the  fresh  airs 
of  the  sea,  this  echo  of  human  activity  hung  like 
a  charm,  and  compelled  attention  to  the  work  of 
which  it  was  an  overtone.  Yet  so  mighty  are  the 
proportions  of  this  rocky  and  broken  extremity 
of  land  that  iny  one  sitting  on  the  grassy  summit 
of  the  cliff  and  looking  seaward  along  the  low 
point  of  the  rocks  might  easily  have  failed  to 
notice  immediately  the  signs  of  human  activity 
whence  the  ringing  sounds  rose.  To  Eichard 
Grey,  however,  sound  and  scene  were  both  familiar, 
and  his  practised  scrutiny  at  once  recognized  the 
signs  of  human  life  and  movement  on  the  rocks: 
men  moving  hither  and  thither  like  insects  in 
their  crevices;  the  pigmy  arms  of  cranes  wav- 


THE  BUILDER  23 

ing  and  circling  in  the  air;  wooden  sheds  and 
shanties,  piles  of  stone,  mortar,  ironwork,  sand; 
the  smoke  of  a  forge;  the  busy  movement  of 
picks  and  drills,  the  circle  of  hammers  upon  the 
anvil.  Men  were  fetching  and  carrying  fresh 
water  from  a  sort  of  reservoir  fed  by  pipes  from 
the  cliff;  other  men  were  mixing  mortar;  others 
were  carrying  it  in  small  loads  backwards  and 
forwards,  scrambling  over  the  rough  rocks  or 
walking  gingerly  along  slippery  causeways.  Com 
pared  with  the  immense  march  of  the  waves,  the 
wide  and  solemn  movement  of  the  clouds,  the 
remote  drift  of  the  ships  along  the  distant  hori 
zon,  this  antlike  activity  seemed  petty  and  fretful, 
as  though  it  had  no  part  in  order  or  usefulness. 
But  looked  at  more  nearly,  it  arrested  the  at 
tention  and  directed  it  to  an  obvious  and  central 
purpose.  On  the  outermost  of  the  rocks,  and  not 
far  from  where  the  green  waves  broke  and  foamed, 
a  snow-white  shape,  the  perfection  of  grace  and 
simplicity,  rose  above  the  dark,  seaworn  platform. 
It  seemed  to  grow  like  the  trunk  of  a  tree  out  of 
the  rock,  the  circumference  spreading  out  at  the 
base  as  though  to  hold  and  adapt  itself  to  the 
irregularities  of  the  surface,  and  springing  up 
with  a  gradual  contraction  of  girth  that  yet 
seemed  to  gather  into  itself  all  the  strength  and 
anchorage  of  the  roots.  The  scaffoldings  and 
ladders  that  clung  around  it  hardly  obscured  its 
grace  and  whiteness,  but  seemed  rather  to  envelop 


24  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

it  tenderly  in  a  caress  of  labor.  And  to  it  and 
from  it  as  a  centre  the  whole  movement  of  this 
little  colony  of  toiling  men  came  and  went.  Its 
tall  presence  explained  everything,  and  made 
clear  the  purpose  of  anvil,  pick,  and  drill.  The 
sweeping  conformation  of  the  coast,  the  ceaseless 
plying  of  ships  to  and  fro  on  the  world's  great 
pathway  a  few  leagues  off,  the  pull  of  the  tides 
and  the  setting  of  the  prevalent  winds  made  of 
the  Snail  Eocks  a  snare  and  danger  to  men;  and' 
the  crowded  graves  in  the  little  churchyard  on 
the  cliff,  as  well  as  the  whitening  bones  of  ships 
on  some  of  the  more  sheltered  ledges,  were  a 
reminder  of  their  past  cruelties.  The  fair  white 
tower  rising  there,  planted  among  their  very 
teeth,  marked  the  end  of  their  reign  of  terror, 
and  would  presently  ordain  them  ministers  of 
safety  and  guiding. 

As  Eichard  Grey  left  the  cart-road  and  began 
to  descend  the  rough  path  worn  in  the  face  of  the 
cliff,  he  came  full  in  sight  of  the  tower,  and  his 
heart  made  a  little  movement  of  joy.  Young  as 
he  was,  with  all  the  pulses  of  life  quick  and 
happy  in  his  body,  that  cold  white  shape  was 
wife,  child,  mistress  to  him.  To  its  building  and 
equipment  all  his  life  and  training  had  been 
directed;  he  knew  no  other  ambition  but  that 
of  its  creation  and  the  establishment  of  the  prin 
ciples  which  its  success  should  prove;  he  dreamed 
of  no  greater  pleasure  than  the  assurance  that 


THE   BUILDER  25 

it  would  stand  and  shine  there  long  after  his 
own  life  was  over,  and  be  the  monument  of  his 
own  and  his  father's  scientific  work.  The  son  of 
a  famous  engineer,  he  had  been  educated  and 
trained  to  work  out  certain  principles  of  light 
house  construction  at  which  his  father  had  ar 
rived  late  in  life.  With  an  aptness  rare  in  sons 
whose  careers  are  thus  predestined  for  them  he 
had  applied  himself  with  gusto  to  the  necessary 
studies;  and  his  father  before  he  died  had  the 
joy  of  recognizing  in  his  son  a  fellow  craftsman 
and  enthusiast,  and  of  descrying  in  his  clear  and 
capable  mind  a  promise  of  distinction  greater 
even  than  his  own.  No  shadow  had  ever  come 
between  them  to  disturb  their  happy  relationship. 
Richard's  mother  had  died  in  his  early  boyhood, 
leaving  no  other  children;  and  the  father  and 
son,  thus  thrown  together,  had  devoted  themselves 
to  each  other  and  to  their  common  work  with  a 
singleness  that  had  excluded  from  Richard's  life 
many  of  the  interests  incidental  to  youth.  His 
school  holidays  were  spent  in  voyages  with  his 
father  in  a  Trinity  yacht,  or  in  expeditions  to 
some  rock  or  headland  where  work  was  in  prog 
ress;  and  he  thus  acquired  an  impatience  of  con 
finement  and  the  life  of  cities,  and  a  sense  of 
proprietorship  in  large  and  windy  spaces  and  the 
bright  environment  of  the  sea.  And  when,  later, 
he  went  abroad  to  spend  the  year  of  travel  which 
his  father,  with  old-fashioned  wisdom,  deemed  the 


26  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

proper  bridge  between  academic  and  vital  educa 
tion,  it  was  to  far-away  straits,  and  classic  prom 
ontories  of  the  Old  World,  that  his  interests  led 
him ;  and  from  a  brief  sojourn  in  some  glittering 
capital  he  would  hurry  to  the  coasts  of  Greece  or 
Egypt  and  the  shores  of  half-forgotten  seas,  to 
idle  for  weeks  about  the  place  of  some  old  Pharos, 
dreaming  of  the  history  of  men,  reconstructing  in 
imagination  the  maritime  life  of  vanished  nations, 
and  tracing  the  links  between  those  dead  times 
and  his  own  romantic  profession.  A  strange 
blend  of  the  artist  and  the  man  of  science,  the 
poet  and  the  craftsman,  he  was  normal  and  whole 
some  in  the  extremely  simple  view  of  life  which 
he  thus  acquired.  It  was  a  view  that  had  many 
blanks,  and  that  inevitably  left  to  the  thirties  and 
forties  many  a  discovery  and  painful  struggle 
that  most  of  us  encompass  in  the  twenties;  but 
it  included  a  large  and  human  understanding  of 
things  not  actually  experienced,  along  with  the 
inevitable  tinge  of  Puritanism  that  stiffens  a  life 
of  strenuous  labor  and  purpose. 

Thus  it  was  that  until  the  age  of  thirty  he  knew 
hardly  any  interests  but  those  that  arose  out  of 
his  work  or  lay  in  his  reading.  His  father  lived 
long  enough  to  see  him  launched  on  his  career 
as  an  engineer  in  the  service  of  the  Trinity  Board, 
and  to  have  him  working  with  him  as  his  assistant 
when  he  began  to  build  the  lighthouse  on  the 
Snail  Eocks;  and  his  death,  the  first  sorrow  that 


THE  BUILDER  27 

Richard  had  known,  served  only  to  raise  the  son's 
interest  in  their  common  work  to  an  almost  pas 
sionate  devotion.  His  own  capacity  and  brilliancy 
as  an  engineer  combined  with  the  influence  of  his 
father's  name  to  secure  him  ready  appreciation  in 
the  eyes  of  the  Brethren  of  the  Trinity,  that 
genial  and  rubicund  company ;  and  at  his  father's 
death  it  was  decided  to  entrust  to  Richard  the 
completion  of  the  Snail  Rock  lighthouse.  There 
were,  it  is  true,  head-shakings  and  pursings  of 
lips  on  the  part  of  some  old  members  of  the 
Board;  but  Richard  was  so  reasonable  and  in 
gratiating,  and  veiled  his  enthusiasm  so  cleverly 
in  the  garb  of  a  prudent  conservatism,  that  he 
won  the  hearts  and  heads  of  the  genial  corpora 
tion.  Moreover,  he  was  regarded  more  or  less 
as  a  child  of  the  Trinity,  and  was  given  his 
chance. 

For  four  years  the  work  had  absorbed  him  com 
pletely,  and  now  on  this  summer  afternoon,  a 
man  of  thirty-one,  he  saw  it  nearing  completion 
at  last.  It  was  some  sense  of  success  being  thus 
within  sight  that  stirred  his  heart  as  he  paused 
at  the  beginning  of  the  cliff  path  and  looked  at 
the  fair  virginal  form  of  the  lighthouse  standing 
so  white  and  graceful  against  the  blue  of  sea  and 
sky.  In  these  four  years  it  had  become  a  very 
real  part  of  himself,  and  was  invested  with  a 
personality  that  dominated  not  only  himself  and 
his  colony  of  workmen,  but  the  whole  environ- 


28  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

ment  of  sea  and  land.  As  he  had  returned  to  it 
after  each  winter  and  found  it  standing  there,  all 
unshaken  and  undismayed  by  the  tremendous 
assault  of  the  sea,  his  heart  had  warmed  to  it  in 
gratitude  and  love.  Into  every  course  had  been 
built  something  of  his  father;  every  joint  and 
dovetail  of  the  carefully  shaped  stones  had  been 
made  on  principles  which  they  had  evolved  to 
gether;  and  as  it  grew  under  his  hand  a  belief 
in  his  father's  presence,  a  healing  sense  of  im 
mortality,  and  of  the  existence  of  a  man's  soul 
in  the  fruit  of  his  labor,  grew  with  it.  The  old 
gentleman,  who  was  something  of  a  bookworm, 
had  been  of  an  epigrammatic  turn,  and  a  certain 
quaint  platitude  of  his,  We  are  the  sum  of  what 
we  do,  came  back  to  Eichard's  mind  as  he  gazed 
on  the  unfinished  lighthouse  tower.  He  felt  more 
than  ever  that  it  was  his  father's  bequest  of  labor 
to  him,  and  more  than  ever  he  felt  pride  and 
elation  in  the  thought  that  the  work  was  well 
and  faithfully  done. 

As  he  hastened  down  the  path  to  the  scattered 
sheds  and  benches  where  the  masons  were  work 
ing,  a  great  bulky  man,  the  foreman,  rolled  up 
to  him.  John  Macneil  was  a  special  ally  of 
Richard's;  he  had  worked  under  his  father,  and 
shared  something  of  the  Grey  passion  for  light 
house  work;  and  wherever  there  was  a  dangerous 
or  difficult  job  in  a  particularly  exposed  place, 


THE   BUILDER  29 

MacneiFs  huge  frame  could  be  seen,  straddling 
about  slippery  skerries,  or  clinging  to  the  margin 
of  some  precipitous  cliff,  or  swinging  on  the  hook 
of  a  crane,  his  red  honest  face  all  puckered  with 
absorbed  interest  or  anxiety  in  the  work.  It  now 
wore  a  grin  of  excitement,  as  the  two  men  went 
down  to  the  boat  that  lay  waiting  to  take  them 
off  to  the  outer  rocks. 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Eichard,  sir ;  that's  a 
grand  evening.  Man,  but  you  should  have  been 
here  this  afternoon  wi'  your  rod.  The  poddlies 
were  leppin'  all  round  the  big  rock,  and  it  was 
all  I  could  do  to  keep  the  men  to  their  work." 

"Were  they?  I'm  sorry  to  have  missed  that; 
perhaps  they'll  turn  up  again  toward  sunset. 
How's  the  work  gone  ?  " 

Instantly  the  red  laughing  face  took  on  a  child's 
seriousness. 

"  Oh,  pairf  ectly  well,  sir ;  I'm  no'  complaining. 
We've  finished  the  binding  course,  and  I've  nar 
rowed  that  ventilator  to  nine  and  a  half  inches, 
as  you  said.  Price  was  for  giving  it  the  full  ten, 
if  I'd  permitted  him.  No'  but  what  I  think  he's 
right;  but  you  and  me's  not  going  to  fall  out 
over  half  an  inch,  Mr.  Eichard"  —  and  they 
plunged  into  technical  details.  They  landed  on 
the  jagged,  ugly  rock  on  which  the  lighthouse 
stood,  and  together  inspected  the  works,  the  young 
alert  man  and  the  elderly  alert  man,  poring  upon 
measurements  and  weights,  examining  a  case  of 


30  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

bolts  that  had  arrived  that  afternoon,  discussing 
the  quality  of  iron  like  connoisseurs  tasting  wine; 
testing  cement,  examining  masons'  and  carpenters' 
work,  climbing  the  scaffold  to  the  top  course  of 
the  tower  and  scrutinizing  the  wonderfully  shaped 
stones  that  fitted  into  each  other  like  a  Chinese 
puzzle  —  in  a  word,  tasting  to  the  full  the  joy 
of  craftsmen  in  their  craft. 

As  the  western  sky  reddened  a  whistle  sounded, 
and  labor  ceased.  Tools  were  collected,  coats 
were  put  on,  and  the  men  crowded  into  the  wait 
ing  boats,  that  presently  floated  in,  rising  and 
falling  on  the  clear  green  waves.  Arrived  at  the 
little  landing-slip,  they  filed  up  the  path  to  the 
row  of  wooden  barracks  that  crowned  the  great 
black  summit  of  Poltesco  Head  and  were  their 
habitation  for  the  working  season.  Lamps  shone, 
smoke  rose  from  the  cook's  fire,  the  evening  meal 
was  prepared  and  eaten,  pipes  were  lit  and 
smoked  as  an  accompaniment  to  newspapers  and 
talk.  In  his  separate  little  shanty  on  the  cliff 
Eichard  Grey  produced  his  instruments  after  his 
evening  meal  was  finished,  and  sat  late  at  his 
drawing-desk;  and  it  was  not  until  the  steady 
snores  of  Macneil  in  the  adjoining  cabin  had 
firmly  established  themselves  that  he  put  away 
his  papers  and  prepared  to  seek  his  own  camp- 
bed.  But  before  he  did  so  he  went  down,  as  was 
his  habit,  to  take  a  last  look  at  the  works.  The 
tide  and  the  moon  had  risen,  and  were  flooding 


THE   BUILDER  31 

the  rocks  with  light  and  foaming  waves;  to  the 
northeast  the  gleam  of  the  searchlight  on  Pen- 
dennis  Castle  shimmered  at  intervals  in  the  sky; 
and  far  out  at  sea  twinkled  the  lights  of  a  pass 
ing  liner,  thundering  westward  to  the  open  sea. 
The  waters  were  calm  except  where  the  swell 
broke  on  the  rocks,  and  their  eternal  voice  rose 
and  fell  in  the  silence.  The  white  tower  glim 
mered  ghostly  in  the  moonlight;  it  stood  there 
proud  and  tranquil,  like  a  thing  that  should  en 
dure  forever.  Eichard  stood  beside  it  looking  into 
the  violet  night  until  a  wave  spilling  at  his  feet 
sent  him  to  seek  the  shelter  of  his  cabin. 


II 


tourist  who  on  a  summer's  day  adven- 
JL  tures  as  far  as  Poltesco  Head  sees  only  the 
buildings  of  the  lighthouse  establishment,  daz 
zling  in  snowy  whitewash;  the  keepers'  houses, 
with  their  trim  walls  and  gardens  where  the  pop 
pies  shake  in  the  breeze  and  the  clothes  lie  bleach 
ing  on  the  hedges;  and,  over  the  deep  blue- water 
gap  at  the  cliff's  verge,  the  serrated  ridges,  the 
shelves  and  skerries  and  ledges  of  the  Snail 
Eocks,  with  the  lighthouse  itself  beyond.  The 
tower  stands  fair  and  white  on  the  Outer  Snail, 
its  lantern  glittering  in  the  sunshine,  the  birds 
wheeling  around  the  balcony,  the  green  seas  wash 
ing  about  its  base;  but  on  tower  and  causeway, 
dwellings  and  gardens,  there  rests  now  profound 
peace  and  loneliness;  the  human  repose  which  no 
turmoil  of  the  sea  can  ever  break;  the  Sabbath 
of  accomplished  labor. 

But  in  the  days  when  Richard  Grey  and  John 
Macneil  and  their  little  company  of  laborers  and 
artificers  kept  house  in  the  wooden  shanties  on  the 
cliff-side  the  scene  was  very  different.  Many 
sounds  mingled  in  the  clear  air,  and  the  ceaseless 

32 


THE   BUILDER  33 

passage  to  and  fro  of  the  dust-colored  figures  of 
the  men  kept  the  little  settlement  alive  with  that 
air  of  bustle  and  absorption  which  is  character 
istic  of  such  scenes  of  transitory  labor.  The 
building  of  a  rock  lighthouse  is  a  slow  and  diffi 
cult  task,  carried  on  far  from  the  busy  haunts 
of  men,  and  attracting  little  of  their  attention; 
and  often  it  is  only  the  round  eyes  of  the  sea-gulls 
that  watch  and  wonder  at  this  clamorous  invasion 
of  their  sanctuaries.  The  lighthouse  on  the  Snail 
had  its  own  special  problems,  for  which  its  near 
ness  to  the  land  and  the  quarries  made  some 
compensation;  but  the  very  small  surface  of  the 
outer  rock  left  uncovered  at  low  water  made  the 
first  part  of  the  building  very  slow  indeed.  The 
first  work  of  old  Sir  Everard  Grey  and  his  son, 
after  the  triangulation  and  survey  of  the  rocks, 
and  when  the  site  and  design  of  the  lighthouse 
had  been  determined,  was  the  erection  of  some 
temporary  structure  on  which  the  smith's  forge 
could  be  erected  above  high-water  mark,  so  that 
the  picks  and  boring  tools  could  be  kept  sharp; 
and  the  erection  of  the  beacon  had  occupied  half 
of  the  first  season's  work.  Then  the  excavation 
of  a  shallow  foundation  pit  had  been  begun,  and 
before  the  end  of  the  season  the  first  two  courses 
of  masonry,  all  dovetailed  and  fitted  and  locked 
together,  had  been  successfully  laid,  and  the  work 
left  to  the  storms  of  winter.  On  resuming  work 
the  next  spring  nothing  was  found  to  have  been 


34  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

damaged;  and  in  that  season  twenty-eight  more 
courses  were  laid,  completing  the  solid  part  of 
the  tower  and  raising  it  some  forty  feet  in  height 
and  five  and  twenty  feet  above  high-water  mark. 
But  the  following  winter  was  one  of  disaster. 
Sir  Everard  died  after  a  short  illness,  and  later, 
in  the  heavy  gales  of  February,  the  beacon  was 
washed  away,  damaging  some  of  the  upper  courses 
of  the  tower  as  it  was  hurled  against  them. 

It  was  then  that  Kichard,  who  had  been  acting 
as  his  father's  assistant,  applied  for  and,  after 
some  difficulty,  obtained  permission  to  carry  out 
the  work  himself.  In  adopting  a  certain  curve  — 
the  conchoidal  —  for  the  sides  of  his  tower,  Sir 
Everard  had  gone  flat  in  the  face  of  the  sacred 
precepts  of  Smeaton  and  Stevenson,  and  with  but 
little  sympathy  from  his  colleagues,  who  were  all 
wedded  either  to  the  parabolic  or  the  hyperbolic 
frustra.  The  curve  up  which  the  waves  could 
most  easily  lick,  so  to  speak,  and  have  their 
strength  diverted;  the  disposition  of  the  super 
incumbent  weight  of  the  tower  so  that  it  might 
with  the  greatest  advantage  press  immediately 
over  the  stones  of  the  lower  courses,  without  im 
parting  to  them  a  spreading  tendency;  the 
weight  to  be  opposed  to  the  waves,  and  its  decrease 
upwards  in  proportion  to  the  decrease  of  their 
strength,  —  these  are  the  considerations  on  which 
such  a  design  depends;  and  as  Sir  Everard's 
views  upon  them  were  new  then,  it  followed  that 


THE   BUILDER  35 

his  design  was  also  a  little  unorthodox.  But 
Kichard  at  any  rate  was  a  confident  believer,  and 
when  he  took  over  the  work  on  which  the  two 
had  so  hopefully  labored,  although  he  did  it  with 
a  heavy  heart,  his  confidence  in  the  result  was 
unshakable. 

That  was  two  years  ago  —  years  filled  with  hard 
work  and  long  hours  of  exposure  on  the  rock  and 
about  the  workshops  on  Poltesco  Head.  Richard 
had  fallen  .in  love  with  his  occupation  —  surely 
the  happiest  destiny  that  can  befall  any  man; 
and  in  the  long  hours  spent  in  the  fresh  briny 
air,  cheered  with  the  bright  surrounding  glitter  of 
the  sea,  wet  with  the  soft  rains,  and  blown  upon  by 
the  salt  winds,  he  had  found  a  contentment  of 
mind  that  excluded  all  desire  for  change  or  even 
companionship.  When  he  wanted  to  talk,  he 
talked  to  Macneil,  who  was  always  ready  for  ab 
stract  discussions,  and  who  stood  to  Eichard  in 
the  compound  relation  of  instructor,  nurse,  bully, 
right-hand  man,  and  abject  slave.  But  the  effect 
on  the  young  engineer  of  so  absorbing  and  respon 
sible  a  work  was  almost  to  stupefy  his  social  in 
stincts;  he  found  in  it  an  outlet  for  the  whole 
of  his  energy,  and  when  his  day's  work  was  over 
he  was  glad  to  throw  himself  on  his  bed  and  sleep. 
Thus  day  followed  day  with  a  succession  of 
minute  interests  —  each  important  and  distin 
guished  from  the  rest,  but  all  together  producing 
an  effect  of  monotony  that  offered  little  opposi- 


36  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

tion  to  the  passage  of  time,  which  slipped  by 
almost  unheeded.  There  was  the  waking  up  in 
the  morning,  and  the  first  anxious  look  at  the 
weather ;  the  hasty  cup  of  coffee  —  if  the  tide 
fell  early  —  and  the  careful  embarkation  of  the 
men  in  the  two  big  flat-bottomed  boats  that  fer 
ried  them  from  the  cliff  to  the  outer  rocks;  due 
division  and  apportionment  of  labor,  so  that  no 
one  department  would  be  kept  waiting  for  another 
during  the  short  tide's  work;  superintendence  of 
a  dozen  delicate  operations,  decisions  on  a  dozen 
matters  a  mistake  in  which  might  have  meant 
a  week's  delay;  passionately  interested  witness- 
ings  of  the  landing  and  craning  and  laying  of  a 
great  stone;  anxious  watching  of  the  returning 
tide,  so  that  the  last  moment  of  work  might  be 
secured;  blowing  of  whistles,  and  hasty  collec 
tion  of  tools  and  securing  of  the  work;  and  last, 
the  hurried  embarkation  into  the  boats,  while  the 
men  often  stood  up  to  their  middles  in  water  and 
the  returning  flood  swept  over  the  rock.  Between 
tides  there  would  be  the  work  ashore  to  superin 
tend —  the  cutting  and  preparing  of  stones,  load 
ing  of  boats,  joinery,  and  endless  iron  work  on 
stanchions,  bats,  holdfasts,  clamps,  chains,  and 
so  forth.  Then  back  again  with  the  first  ebbing 
of  the  tide  from  the  rock,  to  repeat  the  same 
minute,  careful,  and  laborious  round.  Sometimes 
the  first  tide's  work  would  be  done  in  the  gray 
summer  dawn,  while  the  sky  reddened  and  burned, 


THE   BUILDER  3? 

and  the  sea-birds  cried  all  about  the  rock  as  they 
fished  for  their  morning  meal;  sometimes  the 
second  tide  would  occur  in  the  evening,  when  the 
boats  would  row  off  to  the  rock  in  a  crimson  sun 
set,  and  the  flares  and  torches  and  forge  fires 
would  glare  long  into  the  night,  and  make  on  the 
peaceful  seascape  a  scene  of  lurid  and  infernal 
activity. 

The  variety  thus  lay  in  the  work  itself,  enclosed 
in  an  outward  shell  of  monotony.  The  making 
of  mortar,  for  example,  does  not  seem  to  be  a 
promising  matter  of  interest;  but  it  was  one  of 
Eichard's  absorbing  cares.  He  had  met  with 
extreme  difficulty  in  finding  laborers  who  could 
be  induced  to  take  sufficient  care  in  the  mixing 
of  the  special  kind  of  cement  used  in  building 
a  sea-tower,  and  one  after  another  had  been  dis 
charged,  until  he  had  found  an  old  local  inhabit 
ant,  one  Treleath,  who  took  exactly'  the  right 
kind  of  conscientious  pride  in  the  humble  but  im 
portant  task,  and  who  felt  that  the  success  of  the 
operations  depended  wholly  on  himself.  And  if 
you  had  gone  down  to  the  works  any  day  and 
every  day  during  the  season,  you  would  have  seen 
no  change  in  the  patient  old  figure,  with  his  pale 
face  and  blue  Breton  eyes,  bending  over  the  iron 
tubs,  mixing  and  pouring,  and  directing  the 
minion  who  worked  under  him.  But  in  fact 
every  cask  of  sand  that  was  opened,  every  barrel 
of  lime,  every  case  of  cement,  had  its  possi- 


38  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

bilities  of  change  and  variety.  The  sand,  perhaps, 
would  be  a  little  dull  and  soft;  Treleath  would 
thrust  his  arm  into  it,  take  out  a  pinch,  crumble 
it,  taste  it,  as  though  it  were  some  priceless  com 
estible.  "  Take  et  away,"  he  would  say ;  "  that 
ain't  no  use  to  we;  that  never  seen  Mulford 
Eiver ; "  and  then  the  next  time  Eichard  hap 
pened  to  pass :  "  I  shall  have  to  ask  you  to  speak 
about  the  sand  again,  Mr.  Grey,  zur;  I  can't  put 
that  there  stuff  into  the  mortar;  there  bean't  no 
sharpness  in  it.  They  don't  belong  to  send  stuff 
like  that  to  we,  and  us  paying  a  good  price  up  to 
Mulford,  too."  And  the  old  man  would  shake 
his  head,  and  broach  another  cask,  which  he  and 
Eichard  would  examine  together  like  fellow  ex 
perts.  Although  he  never  said  anything  very 
interesting,  the  old  man  had  a  slow  dignity  of 
speech  and  demeanor  that  delighted  Eichard,  who 
often  made  occasions  of  consulting  him  for  no 
other  purpose  than  to  enjoy  his  deliberate  con 
versation.  He  valued  his  words,  and  always 
looked  around  the  horizon  before  he  spoke,  with 
an  air  of  having  taken  into  consideration  every 
matter,  earthly  and  celestial,  that  could  possibly 
qualify  his  opinion.  He  had  a  wife,  a  little  fat 
pillar  of  a  woman  as  old  as  himself,  who  loved 
him  with  a  romantic  worship,  and  addressed  him 
as  "  tender  dear."  She  had  interviewed  Eichard 
on  the  morning  after  her  husband's  appointment: 
"  And  you'll  let  me  sit  on  the  cliffs  near  that 


THE   BUILDER  39 

tender  dear,  sir,  where  I  can  see  him  working,  as 
I've  always  done  in  times  past,  wherever  he  he; 
and  thanking  you  kindly,  sir,  but  'tis  cheer  for 
him  through  the  long  day  to  look  up  and  see  me 
where  I  be,  and  can  watch  over  him  while  knit 
ting  "  —  so  that  the  red  shawl  of  Mrs.  Treleath 
on  the  cliff  became  a  sort  of  ensign,  to  those  ap 
proaching  from  the  land,  that  work  was  going 
on  ashore  and  that  the  men  were  off  the  rock. 

The  morning  following  Eichard' s  return  to  the 
Eock  began  a  typical  day's  work.  The  early  sum 
mer  had  seen  the  completion  of  the  masonry  of 
the  tower,  with  the  exception  of  the  projecting 
cornice  or  capital  which  was  to  form  the  balcony 
outside  the  lantern;  there  only  remained  the 
pointing,  the  completion  of  the  carpenter's  work 
on  fittings  inside,  the  erection  of  the  lantern,  the 
completion  of  the  light-keepers'  homes  ashore,  and 
finally,  the  putting  in  of  the  lamp  with  its  re 
volving  machinery. 

On  this  day  they  were  to  land  and  set  some 
of  the  heavy  stones  for  the  cornice  —  a  delicate 
and  difficult  task  to  which  Eichard  looked  for 
ward  with  particular  interest  and  anxiety.  The 
tide  served  at  about  six  o'clock,  and  when  Eichard 
came  out  of  his  cabin  at  half-past  five  a  glorious 
summer  morning,  with  a  sea  as  calm  as  a  mill- 
pond,  promised  well  for  the  success  of  the  opera 
tions.  The  Eock  was  then  just  showing  above  the 


40  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

water.  The  occasion  being  a  special  one,  on 
which  the  last  course  of  the  tower  was  to  be  built, 
orders  had  been  given  that  it  was  to  be  marked 
in  the  usual  way;  and  at  this  moment  the  men 
were  sitting  about  on  the  grass  each  holding  a 
cup  or  glass,  into  which  the  cook  was  pouring  a 
tot  of  rum.  When  all  the  vessels  had  been 
charged,  Macneil  took  his  hat  off  and  stood  a 
little  apart  and  spoke  up.  It  was  his  custom,  as 
a  protest  against  the  dissolute  habits  of  the  work 
ing  man,  to  attempt  to  invest  such  occasions  with 
as  much  solemnity  and  as  little  conviviality  as 
possible  —  an  attempt,  to  do  him  justice,  in  which 
he  was  not  generally  successful. 

"  Now,  men,  as  we've  arrived  in  the  maircy  o' 
Providence  at  the  last  coorse  o'  the  light,  it's  the 
engineer's  orders  that  a  glass  o'  rum  should  be 
sairved  to  all  hands  —  no'  as  a  beverage,  ye'll 
understan',  but  as  a  mark  o'  the  guidness  o'  Prov 
idence.  (Mr.  Flanagan,  mebbe  ye'll  leave  over- 
haulin'  yon  fishin'-tackle  till  we're  through  with 
this.)  As  I  was  sayin',  o'  the  guidness  o'  Provi 
dence.  The  most  of  us  has  been  here  four  years 
now,  and  I'll  leave  ye  to  say  who  you've  to  thank 
that  there's  been  no  seeckness  or  loss  o'  life  among 
us.  So  let's  all  be  upstanding,  and  here's  drink 
ing  Mr.  Grey's  guid  health,  and  success  to  the 
Snail  Lighthouse !  " 

Three  rousing  cheers  followed,  and  then  a  con 
vivial  voice  striking  up  "  For  he's  a  jolly  good 


THE   BUILDER  41 

fellow,"  that  immortal  song  was  rendered  with 
gusto.  The  scene  was  in  strange  contrast  to  the 
usual  lamplit  environment  of  a  toast  —  the  little 
group  standing  bareheaded  on  the  verge  of  the 
great  frowning  cliff,  with  the  early  morning  sun 
shine  throwing  its  shadows  long  on  the  grass,  and 
the  rough,  rousing  song  mingling  with  the  call 
of  the  sea-gulls.  Eichard  stood  somewhat  sheep 
ishly  in  the  doorway  of  his  cabin  until  they  had 
finished,  and  the  cups  and  glasses  had  all  been 
up-ended. 

"  All  right,  men,  that'll  do.  Very  much  obliged 
to  you,  I'm  sure.  We  shall  know  more  about  it 
by  the  time  we've  finished  this  day's  work.  Off 
with  you  now,  and  get  your  tools." 

The  men  were  quickly  marshalled  down  to  the 
boats  that  stood  waiting  on  the  scrap  of  shingly 
beach  below  the.  cliff.  Treleath  was  the  first  away, 
in  the  small  flat  devoted  to  his  use  for  ferrying 
mortar  to  the  rock;  and  two  cargoes  of  stones, 
which  had  been  loaded  into  the  lighters  the  night 
before,  were  towed  off  by  the  boats.  The  short 
voyage  accomplished,  and  the  men  landed  on  the 
rock,  the  lighters  were  brought  round  to  a  little 
creek  where  a  jib-crane  hung  over  the  water.  All 
the  men  were  now  sent  to  their  stations.  The 
masons  climbed  the  ladders  and  scaffolding  to  the 
summit  of  the  tower,  where  they  began  to  prepare 
the  bed  for  the  new  stones;  the  smiths  kindled 
the  forge-fires;  men  were  stationed  at  the  differ- 


42  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

ent  guy-tackles,  falls,  and  outhauls  of  the  cranes; 
while  others  manned  the  sling  and  cradle  used  for 
sending  up  the  mortar,  or  took  their  places  at  the 
little  iron  railway  that  led  from  the  landing-place 
to  the  tower. 

The  elaborate  modelling  of  these  cornice-stones, 
and  the  special  shape  by  means  of  which  they  were 
locked  and  fitted  into  their  neighbors,  made  them 
extremely  precious  and  brittle  to  handle,  as  dam 
age  to  any  of  their  many  edges  would  have  meant 
the  cutting  of  a  new  stone  and  several  days'  delay. 
Therefore  Eichard  watched  with  anxious  eyes 
every  movement,  as  the  sequence  of  labor  took 
hold  of  these  precious  blocks  and  began  to  hoist 
them  toward  their  places.  When  all  were  ready 
a  great  block  of  granite  —  the  first  stone  of 
the  ninety-eighth  course  —  marked  xcvin-1,  and 
weighing  nearly  two  tons,  was  craned  up  from  the 
deck  of  the  lighter  and  deposited  on  an  iron  trol 
ley  on  the  railway.  That  was  the  first  stage  — 
simple  enough  in  calm  weather,  but  rendered 
highly  difficult  and  dangerous  by  the  slightest 
swell  of  the  sea.  Eichard  allowed  himself  to  light 
a  pipe  while  the  stone  was  being  slowly  wheeled 
along  the  railway  and  brought  under  the  chains 
that  were  to  raise  it  to  the  tower.  This  was  done 
in  three  stages.  A  great  oak  beam,  to  the  end  of 
which  stout  tackles  were  fitted,  projecting  hori 
zontally  from  the  lighthouse  thirty  feet  above  the 
rock;  thirty  feet  higher  projected  another  beam, 


THE   BUILDER  43 

fitted  in  the  same  way;  and  at  the  top  of  the 
tower  rose  the  iron  balance  crane  —  a  T-shaped 
structure  supported  on  a  pillar  in  the  centre  of 
the  building,  from  one  end  of  which  the  stones 
were  raised,  while  along  the  other  a  heavy  coun 
terweight  was  moved  in  accordance  with  the  posi 
tion  of  the  stone. 

Slowly,  carefully,  laboriously,  the  great  stone 
was  raised  from  the  trolley  and  swung  upwards 
beside  the  wall  of  the  tower.  When  it  had  been 
raised  as  high  as  the  first  crane,  two  men  came 
swinging  down  from  above  on  the  tackle  of  the 
second;  and,  standing  on  the  block,  they  made 
fast  the  grips  of  the  second  crane  to  it.  "  Haul !  " 
The  order  was  given,  the  tackle  tightened,  the 
grips  took  hold,  and  the  stone  began  to  rise  again, 
while  the  two  men,  now  perched  on  the  project 
ing  beam  of  the  first  crane,  cast  off  its  tackle, 
which  was  sent  down  again.  Once  more  the  stone 
rose,  swung  high  under  the  beam  of  the  second 
crane;  there  it  was  transferred  to  the  grip  of 
the  balance  crane,  which  swung  it  up  and  up, 
until  it  was  higher  than  the  lighthouse.  Eichard, 
who  was  standing  below  on  the  rock,  could  see 
the  arm  of  the  crane  with  its  precious  burden 
beginning  to  swing  around  and  to  point  toward 
its  place  on  the  tower.  He  could  do  nothing 
more  but  watch;  it  was  all  out  of  his  power;  he 
must  depend  on  the  men  he  had  trained  and  the 
machinery  he  had  devised.  Slowly  the  crane 


44  THE   SANDS    OF   PLEASURE 

came  round,  and  then  stopped;  gradually  the 
stone  moved  inwards  as  the  gearing  was  worked 
which  moved  the  tackle  along  the  arm;  at  last 
it  rested  over  its  place.  He  could  see  the  masons, 
silhouetted  against  the  bright  sky,  putting  the 
last  touches  to  the  bed  of  mortar.  Then  "  Lower !  " 
—  the  sharp  command  floated  down  to  him,  and 
the  mass  of  granite  rested  on  its  new  bed,  hardly 
less  solid  and  immovable  than  its  foundations  in 
the  quarry  ashore.  Macneil,  who  was  superin 
tending  the  laying  operations,  suppressed  a  ten 
dency  to  cheering.  Richard  ran  to  the  ladders, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  was  standing  with  a  little 
group  on  the  staging  at  the  summit  of  the  tower. 
There  lay  the  great  stone,  faithfully  copied  from 
the  wooden  pattern  made  under  Sir  Everard's 
supervision,  fitting  exactly  into  its  place  as  though 
it  had  grown  there;  and  it  is  difficult  to  convey 
to  the  lay  mind  any  idea  of  the  emotion  and  satis 
faction  with  which  Richard  regarded  it. 

Thereafter  the  work  went  on  more  quickly. 
While  the  second  stone  was  being  laid,  the  third 
was  hanging  ready  from  the  upper  crane;  the 
fourth  was  on  the  lower  crane;  the  fifth  was  on 
the  railway;  the  sixth  was  being  raised  from  the 
boat.  In  perfect  order  and  harmony,  on  this 
little  narrow  sea-worn  piece  of  rock,  the  various 
squads  of  men  worked  together  interdependently, 
so  that  the  work  of  their  hands  grew  smoothly 
and  rapidly,  and  the  cornice  began  to  take  shape 


THE   BUILDER  45 

round  the  summit  of  the  tower.  When  the  tide 
overflowed  the  rock  and  covered  the  railway,  the 
water  was  still  so  smooth  that  they  were  able  to 
continue  building  by  making  fast  the  lighters 
beside  the  tower  itself  under  the  first  crane,  so 
that  there  were  but  three  stages  in  the  journey 
of  the  stones  from  the  boats  to  their  places  on  the 
tower,  instead  of  five.  They  worked  continuously 
for  thirteen  hours,  with  only  half  an  hour's  in 
terval  for  dinner;  and  when  they  rowed  away  in 
the  evening  glow,  tired  but  triumphant,  the  whole 
of  the  outside  ring  of  stones  were  in  their  places. 
That,  however,  was  hardly  a  typical  day ;  it  was 
indeed  one  of  the  longest  and  most  successful  days 
of  work  in  the  whole  history  of  the  building. 
There  were  other  days  on  which  no  impression 
seemed  to  be  made  on  the  slow  and  difficult  task; 
days  when  the  breach  of  the  sea  on  the  rock  made 
landing  there  hazardous;  when  some  piece  of 
clumsiness  or  carelessness  on  the  part  of  a  work 
man  resulted  in  the  loss  of  a  stone,  the  breaking 
of  a  tackle,  or  the  staving  in  of  a  boat;  when,  in 
spite  of  all  the  efforts  of  Eichard  Grey,  and  all  the 
activity  of  John  Macneil,  the  men  seemed  stupid 
and  unhandy,  and  things  went  all  awry ;  when  the 
tools  would  not  cut,  nor  the  cement  take  bond,  nor 
the  wedges  jamb.  And  in  all  this  long  struggle 
the  one  unresting  enemy  was  the  sea.  It  alone 
never  relaxed  its  efforts,  never  missed  its  oppor 
tunity,  never  failed  to  take  advantage  of  any  neg- 


46  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

ligence  or  weakness  of  the  builders.  There  was 
the  disastrous  day  when  a  lighter,  discharging 
stones  at  the  end  of  a  tide's  work,  and  in  a  heavy 
ground  swell,  was  smashed  against  a  rock  and 
capsized,  throwing  her  heavy  deck  cargo  about  the 
rock;  when  the  sea  rose  in  the  night  and  washed 
the  stones,  a  ton  weight  each,  about  as  though 
they  had  been  pebbles,  and  ground  their  fine 
shapes  and  angles  down  to  powder,  and  finally 
threw  them  down  to  rest  among  the  roots  of  the 
deep-water  seaweeds.  However  much  absorbed  he 
might  become  in  the  work,  Eichard  learned  never 
to  relax  his  watch  on  his  restless  enemy;  he  had 
always  one  eye  on  the  sea  and  sky,  until  he  became 
steeped  in  the  sense  of  the  sea's  personality.  Its 
languid  warm  waves,  its  busy  activity  in  the 
summer  breezes,  its  might  and  terrible  anger  in 
stormy  weather,  its  hollow,  melancholy  voice 
whose  echo  hangs  forever  about  that  wild  shore  — 
these  were  to  him  but  varying  expressions  of  one 
nature,  the  changing  moods  of  one  creature.  He 
came  to  know  it  for  a  blind  thing,  urged  by  pro 
found  passions  far  beyond  its  own  control;  feel 
ing  and  fumbling  for  its  victims,  sly  and  treach 
erous  in  its  calmness,  yet  great  even  in  its  treach 
ery. 

And  beautiful  —  God,  how  beautiful,  and  how 
he  loved  its  beauty,  even  while  he  cursed  and 
fought  against  its  strength!  There  were  hot 
summer  days  when  its  clear,  cool,  transparent 


THE   BUILDER  4V 

depths  of  peacock  or  emerald  wooed  him  to  go 
down  into  them,  and  explore  the  magic  carpets  of 
sand  that  they  revealed;  days  of  wind  and  sun, 
when  the  whole  vast  expanse  shimmered  and  twin 
kled  in  a  lyric  ecstasy  of  laughter;  other  days, 
haunted  by  cloud  and  wandering  airs,  when  over 
the  calm  surface  swept  invisible  faery  armies, 
whose  footprints  were  fleeting  shadows  of  deeper 
blue,  and  their  passage  marked  by  lines  and  net 
works,  smooth  pathways,  mysterious  eddies,  tracks, 
and  wakes  as  of  invisible  ships.  In  all  these 
moods  he  learned  to  know  it  and  to  watch  it  with 
an  untiring  vigilance,  and  to  feel,  even  in  his 
moments  of  triumph  over  it,  that  it  suffered  him 
rather  than  obeyed  him. 


Ill 


EXCEPT  for  the  tiny  village  in  the  valley 
that  runs  up  from  Poltesco  Bay,  and  a  few 
farms,  headquarters  of  a  rather  profitless  struggle 
with  thin  soil  and  wild  weather,  there  are  few 
human  habitations  in  the  vicinity  of  that  bluff 
seashore.  Eichard  Grey's  nearest  neighbor  was 
the  tenant  of  a  little  cottage  that  stood  on  the 
cliffs  above  Poltesco  Bay  —  a  minute  establish 
ment  to  which  Lady  Killard  was  in  the  habit  of 
retreating  for  a  month  or  two  every  year  when 
the  fatigues  of  a  London  season  and  of  her  hus 
band's  legislative  labors  proved  too  much  for  her. 
Eichard  had  seen  little  of  her,  but  had  liked  what 
he  had  seen ;  she  was  young,  attractive,  Irish,  and 
friendly,  and  on  the  rare  occasions  when  they  met 
she  took  trouble  to  let  Eichard  know  that  he  would 
always  be  welcome  at  the  Hermitage.  This  sum 
mer  she  had  as  her  guests  a  brother  and  sister, 
distant  cousins  of  her  husband's ;  and  having  met 
and  found  them  in  the  course  of  one  of  his  lonely 
walks,  Eichard  had  been  much  attracted  by  the 
man,  John  Lauder.  He  was  close  upon  forty 
years  of  age,  and  had  in  his  earlier  youth  attained 
48 


THE   BUILDER  49 

gome  distinction  as  a  painter  in  Paris;  but  the 
possession  of  sufficient  private  means  had  intro 
duced  distractions  into  his  life.  He  had  inevitably 
become  less  of  an  artist  and  more  of  a  man  of 
the  world;  yet  the  effect  of  his  studio  years  re 
mained  with  him,  and  gave  to  his  easy  life  a 
breadth  and  sincerity  which  it  might  otherwise 
have  lacked. 

On  the  afternoon  of  a  day  of  southeast  squalls, 
Richard  Grey,  attended  by  a  faithful  satellite  in 
the  shape  of  his  setter  Rufus,  was  standing  in  the 
lee  of  the  unfinished  light-keepers'  houses  watch 
ing  some  draining  operations.  There  was  a  crash 
ing  run  of  sea  on  the  rock,  and  it  had  been  impos 
sible  to  land  upon  it ;  the  wind  continually  brought 
up  heavy  flaws  of  rain,  that  interfered  with  the 
concreting  of  the  garden  walls;  and  work  was 
almost  entirely  confined  to  the  joiners,  who  were 
busy  with  flooring  and  fitting.  There  was  noth 
ing  for  Richard  to  do  but  to  look  on,  and  he  wel 
comed  the  sight  of  a  stalwart  figure  wrapped  in  a 
raincoat  coming  down  over  the  cliff  edge.  It 
proved  to  be  John  Lauder  come  to  pay  him  a  visit. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?  "  said  Richard.  "  I'm  afraid 
you've  chosen  a  bad  day  for  your  visit;  there's  no 
going  off  to  the  rock  to-day." 

"I  know;  but  I  couldn't  stay  indoors  any 
more;  and  the  direction  of  my  walk  suggested 
looking  you  up.  You  all  look  pretty  wet  and 
miserable  here/'  he  added,  surveying  the  little 


60  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

scattered  groups  of  rain-soaked  figures  toiling 
with  wet  tools  and  covered  with  mire  and  clay. 

"  I  know ;  it's  beastly.  Come  into  my  den  and 
have  a  pipe;  we  can  at  least  be  dry  there." 

Eichard,  whistling  to  the  dog,  led  the  way ;  and 
they  went  into  the  cabin,  lined  with  pine  boarding 
fresh  from  the  plane.  It  was  divided  by  a  parti 
tion  into  an  inner  bedroom  and  a  larger  apart 
ment  furnished  with  chairs  and  a  table,  a  draw 
ing-desk,  a  couple  of  lounge  chairs,  a  few  trunks 
and  boxes,  some  guns  and  fishing-tackle,  and  sev 
eral  shelves  filled  with  books.  A  few  engineering 
drawings  and  photographs  were  nailed  on  the 
walls,  and  throughout  the  room  were  littered  the 
paraphernalia  of  the  confirmed  smoker. 

"  I  think,"  said  Eichard,  "  that  a  whiskey  and 
soda  wouldn't  be  a  bad  idea  ?  " 

Lauder  having  signified  the  doubtful  acquies 
cence  which  is  part  of  the  ritual  of  the  bottle, 
Eichard  brought  from  a  cupboard  the  necessary 
ingredients. 

"  You  see,  I  live  in  rather  a  piggish  way  here," 
he  said,  setting  on  the  table  a  tin  of  tobacco,  a 
bottle  of  whiskey,  two  thick  glasses,  and  a  siphon ; 
"but  it's  wonderful  how  it  simplifies  life  when 
eating  and  drinking  are  merely  the  satisfying  of 
hunger  and  thirst." 

"The  mark  of  Schweppe,"  said  Lauder,  as  the 
soda  foamed  into  the  glass,  "  is  a  wonderful  deco 
ration  to  simplicity."  He  lit  his  pipe  and  sipped 


THE   BUILDER  51 

at  his  glass;  and  as  a  squall  suddenly  battered 
upon  the  little  house,  and  set  the  window  stream 
ing  with  rain,  he  took  another  thoughtful  sip, 
said,  "  Ah !  "  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  emitted 
a  blue  and  fragrant  cloud  of  tobacco  smoke. 

Another  clap  of  wind  shook  the  house,  and  on 
the  back  of  it,  banging  the  door  behind  him,  en 
tered  John  Macneil,  as  though  he  had  been  blown 
in.  He  shook  the  rain  off  his  cap,  and  then  caught 
sight  of  Lauder. 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Eichard;  I  didn't 
know  —  " 

"  It's  only  Mr.  Lauder ;  come  in,  Macneil. 
Lauder,  this  is  John  Macneil,  who  looks  after  me 
and  runs  the  Trinity  House." 

"  And  I  don't  know  which  of  the  two  of  them 
gives  me  the  most  trouble,  sir,"  said  Macneil. 
"  That's  a  terrible  morning  —  no  work  to  be  done 
till  the  win'  changes." 

"  Sit  down  and  light  your  pipe,"  said  Eichard. 
Macneil  belonged  to  that  rare  class  of  subordinates 
of  whom  an  autocrat  may  make  companions ;  and 
Eichard  had  grown  into  something  like  intimacy 
with  this  man  of  many  trades  and  nomad  life. 
Being  Scotch,  he  was  speculative  and  metaphysi 
cal,  and  a  lover  of  abstract  discussions;  and  no 
one  who  talked  to  him  for  long  failed  to  be  pleased 
with  his  hearty  simplicity  and  untutored  outlook 
upon  life. 

"  We  don't  see  many  visitors  here,  sir,"  he  said 


62  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

to  Lander.  "  The  last  we  had'll  no'  come  back, 
I'm  thinking ; "  and  he  began  to  laugh. 

"  Who  was  that  ?  "  Kichard  asked. 

"  The  Methodist  meenister  that  came  last  Sab 
bath  to  preach  to  the  men.  Man,  Mr.  Kichard, 
sir,  I  had  an  awfu'  time  wi'  them.  This  kind  of 
a  travelling  preacher  —  Mills,  they  call  him  — 
came  down  unexpected-like  in  the  afternoon,  and 
asked  would  we  like  a  sairvice.  Ye  should  have 
seen  his  face  when  he  saw  the  place !  '  Where'll 
we  hold  the  sairvice  ? '  says  he.  '  Wait  a  min 
ute/  says  I,  '  I'll  rig  up  a  bit  of  a  desk  for  you ; ' 
and  I  made  him  a  wee  pulpit  out  of  your  chair 
and  some  packing-cases.  '  Where's  the  men,  Mr. 
Macneil  ? '  says  he.  '  Never  fear,  sir,'  says  I, 
'  I'll  fetch  them  in  to  you ; '  and  I  went  off  to  the 
big  cabin  where  they  were  all  sittin'  round  the 
fire  at  their  beer.  '  Come  on,  men,'  says  I, 
'  here's  Mr.  Mills  come  all  the  way  from  Trynack 
to  hold  a  sairvice  to  you.'  Not  a  bit  of  them 
would  come,  and  some  o'  thae  Cockney  laborers 
began  grumbling.  I  didn't  want  any  trouble, 
y'  understan',  so  I  just  went  in  among  them  wi' 
my  fists,  and  bowled  over  the  fairst  o'  them  that 
spoke.  Just  while  I  was  in  the  thick  of  them,  in 
looks  Mr.  Mills  at  the  door.  '  Man,  Mr.  Mac 
neil,'  says  he,  '  this  is  terrible  work ! '  '  Away 
ye  go,  Mr.  Mills,'  says  I,  '  this  is  no  place  for 
you ;  away  ye  go,  sir,  and  I'll  have  them  all  out  to 
you/  And  sure  enough  out  they  came  like  a 


THE   BUILDER  53 

flock  o'  sheep,  and  sat  pairfectly  quiet  through  the 
preaching.  Man,  ye  should  ha'  seen  yon  meenis- 
ter's  face!  But  I  mind  the  last  word  he  said  to 
me  when  he  was  going  away.  He  gave  me  a  look, 
an'  he  gripped  ma  han',  and  '  Man,  Mr.  Macneil,' 
says  he,  '  you're  as  good  an  evangelist  as  St.  Paul 
was ! '  '  Ay,  sir,'  says  I,  '  and  p'raps  a  wee  bit 
more  effecshual ! ' :  And  the  man's  great  frame 
shook  with  laughter. 

"  I've  a  note  from  London,  Mr.  Richard,"  he 
said  presently.  "They  want  me  to  go  to  the 
Saints  as  soon  as  I'm  through  here,  to  see  after 
the  repairs  to  the  fog-signal." 

"  The  Saints  ?  "  said  Lauder.  "  Let  me  see ; 
that's  south  of  the  Scilly  Isles,  isn't  it?" 

"  South  of  everywhere,"  said  Eichard ;  "  the 
loneliest  place  I  was  ever  in.  I  call  it  the  '  Saints' 
Everlasting  Rest,'  because  the  wild  weather  there 
delays  the  reliefs  so  long.  They  sent  me  there 
on  my  first  offshore  job,  to  make  some  drawings 
for  the  fog-signal.  I  was  new  to  rock  stations 
then,  and  rock  light-keepers;  and  I  tell  you,  it 
got  on  my  nerves.  There  were  only  me  and  the 
three  keepers,  the  lighthouse,  and  about  half  an 
acre  of  weedy  rock  to  scramble  about  on  at  low 
water ;  at  high  water  the  sea  is  around  the  tower. 
For  the  first  week  I  liked  it ;  it  was  so  fresh  and 
salt  and  lonely  and  bright,  too ;  but  after  that  — 
my  God,  I  can  remember  it  now!  The  keepers 
had  all  been  off  a  long  time,  for  they'd  had  a  bad 


64  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

winter  and  the  reliefs  were  delayed;  and  they 
were  all  in  a  state  of  nerves.  Two  of  them 
wouldn't  speak  to  one  another  —  hadn't  spoken 
for  six  months;  and  the  third  was  so  queer  and 
sensitive  through  being  alone  so  much  that  he 
wasn't  like  an  ordinary  man.  If  I  spoke  a  little 
sharply  to  him  —  or  rather,  if  I  didn't  speak 
with  elaborate  kindness  —  he  used  to  go  away 
by  himself  and  cry  —  yes,  cry.  I  tell  you,  it  was 
no  joke  to  be  there  on  that  scrap  of  rock,  in  the 
bright  sunshine,  with  nothing  visible  all  around 
you  but  sea  and  sky,  in  the  midst  of  a  deathly 
silence  of  everything  but  the  birds  wailing  about 
the  tower,  and  the  tide  swirling  and  growling  past 
the  reef,  and  men  who  cried  if  you  spoke  to  them ! 
By  the  time  I'd  been  there  a  fortnight  I  could 
have  gone  and  cried  myself." 

"What  on  earth  did  they  cry  for?"  asked 
Lauder. 

"  Well,  ye  see,  Mr.  Lauder,"  said  Macneil, 
"  light-keepers  is  no'  like  other  folks.  They  live 
a  kind  of  an  unnatural  life,  at  any  rate  on  rock 
stations,  and  they've  no'  enough  to  occupy  their 
minds.  And  when  ye  sit  day  after  day,  and  week 
after  week,  and  month  after  month,  opposite  a 
man  at  table  in  a  room  half  the  size  of  this,  ye're 
vera  liable  to  take  a  kind  of  a  dislike  to  the  way 
he  eats  his  food,  or  the  way  he  walks,  or  the  way 
he  speaks;  and  then  there's  nothing  to  speak 
about.  Half  the  time  they've  nothing  to  say,  and 


THE   BUILDER  55 

the  other  half  they'll  no'  speak  till  one  another. 
And  then,  what  the  men  on  the  rock  don't  do,  the 
wives  ashore  do  for  them.  Jealousy,  quarrelling, 
spying,  talebearing,  takin'  offence  at  one  thing 
or  another  —  the  principal  keeper's  wife  jealous 
o}  the  clothes  the  assistant's  wife  wears  —  tut, 
man,  Mr.  Lauder,  sir,  ye'd  be  fair  made  seeck 
with  their  ways.  Women's  either  angels  or  deevils, 
in  my  opinion,  sir;  just  the  one  thing  or  the 
other ! " 

They  all  laughed. 

"  Well,  you  must  hear  some  queer  yarns  on  these 
lonely  lights,"  said  Lauder.  "  I  should  think 
there's  a  good  deal  of  human  nature  sitting  about 
in  light-rooms  every  night." 

"  Ye  may  say  that,  sir,"  said  Macneil.  "  There's 
no'  anything  out  o'  the  way  in  the  English  lights, 
though  Mr.  Richard'll  maybe  tell  ye  different; 
but  up  in  the  north  —  that's  where  the  loneliness 
comes  in;  and  they  supersteetious  Highlanders 
—  man,  you'd  be  surprised  the  things  they 
do!" 

"  What  do  they  do  ?  "  asked  Lauder  with  inter 
est. 

"  Well,"  said  Macneil,  "  I  mind  when  I  was  in 
the  Scotch  sairvice,  there  was  a  man  o'  the  name 
o'  Mackintosh  —  a  queer,  red-bearded  giant  of  a 
man,  who  was  assistant  keeper  on  Muckle  Flugga 
light,  right  in  the  north  o'  the  Shetlands,  with  a 
terrible  wast  o'  sea  stretching  away  to  the  North 


56  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

Pole,  or  thereabouts.  Presently  the  principal 
keeper  asked  to  have  him  removed  somewhere  else ; 
and  wouldn't  give  any  reason*  but  that  he  .couldn't 
bide  there  himsel'  if  the  man  wasn't  transferred. 
Mackintosh  was  no'  unwilling;  and  they  sent  him 
to  Stroma,  in  the  Pentland  Firth;  'but  he  let  the 
light  stand  for  an  hour  there  one  night  when  he 
was  on  duty.  God  knows  what  he  was  doing; 
but  he  was  sent  away  to  Cape  Wrath,  which,  ye'll 
understand,  is  a  kind  of  a  penitentiary  in  the 
Scotch  lighthouse  sairvice.  Well,  he'd  been  at 
Cape  Wrath  six  months  when  I  went  there  to 
put  in  some  new  bearings  in  the  light;  and  the 
principal  keeper,  Galbraith,  takes  me  'on  one 
side: 

"  *  A  word  wi'  ye,  Mr.  Macneil,'  says  he ;  '  either 
me  or  Mackintosh  has  got  to  go/ 

"  '  What's  all  this,  Mr.  Galbraith  ?  '  says  I. 

" e  I'll  no'  stand  it  any  longer,'  says  he.  '  A 
fool  I  can  put  up  with/  says  he,  '  an'  I  can  stum- 
mak  a  sumph;  but'  —  an'  here  he  blazed  out  in 
a  temper  — '  yon  greening,  slobbering  monkey  qf 
a  creature  I'll  no'  have  any  dealings  wi'.' 

"  *  What's  amiss  wi'  him  ? '  says  I ;  '  does  he  no' 
attend  till  his  duties  ? ' 

" '  Ay,  I've  no  quarrel  wi'  his  wark.  But  see 
here,  Mr.  Macneil,  what  sort  o'  a  man  is  it  that 
has  never  a  word  to  throw  till  a  dog,  as  the  say 
ing  is,  but  spends  all  his  time  either  leaning  ower 
the  balcony-rail,  and  spittin'  on  the  rocks,  like 


THE   BUILDER  57 

a  street  arab  ower  a  brig,  or  else  standin'  before 
the  reflectors  makin'  faces  at  himsel'  ?  Hour  after 
hour  he'll  start'  these  ;^  if  ye  go  up  now  ye'll  find 
him  at  it/ 

"  Well,  Mr.  Lauder,  I  kind  of  laughed  at  him, 
but  I  went  quietly  up  to  the  light-room  all  the 
same;  an'  I  turned  kind  o'  seeck  when  I  looked 
in.  There  was  Mackintosh,  standing  before  the 
outside  reflector  —  and  ye  know,  or  maybe  ye  don't 
know,  that  a  reflector  distorts  yer  face  like  one 
of  yon  meerors  outside  o'  a  grocery  shop.  Well, 
for  maybe  two  minutes  he  stood  pairfectly  still, 
starin'  intil  his  own  eyes  in  the  reflector;  and 
that  was  an  ungodly  sight  enough,  in  yon  lonely 
place.  But  presently  he  began  to  tee-hee  and 
giggle  to  himsel'  in  the  glass;  and  then  he  give 
his  face  a  twist.  Christ!  sirs,  it  was  an  awfu' 
sight!  I  can't  rightly  describe  the  look  o'  it; 
it  had  a  kind  o'  a  bestial  look,  something  down 
right  wrong  and  bad,  and  in  the  reflectors  it 
seemed  as  though  a'  the  deevils  in  hell  was  lookin' 
out  o'  his  face.  I'm  no'  a  teemid  man,  Mr. 
Lauder;  but  rather  than  yon  monster  should 
have  caught  a  sight  o'  me,  I'd  'a'  louped  right 
through  the  glass  o'  the  lantern.  I  whipped  down 
stairs  to  Galbraith,  and  took  a  drink  o'  spirits. 
Mackintosh  was  sent  away  the  next  week,  an'  he's 
in  Morningside  Asylum  now,  they  tell  me.  But 
so  much,  ye'll  obsairve,  for  settin'  Christian  men 
on  the  Muckle  Flugga." 


58  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

"  It's  not  a  pretty  story,"  said  Kichard ;  "  we 
don't  breed  many  of  that  sort  in  England,  Mac- 
neil." 

"  What  about  the  Eddystone  ?  "  said  Lauder. 
"  Isn't  that  pretty  lonely  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no ;  it's  like  being  on  Southsea  pier,  with 
excursion-steamers  hanging  around  all  day.  No; 
the  Smalls,  or  the  Wolf,  or  the  '  Scilly  Bishop,' 
or  the  Saints  —  that's  all  the  terrors  we've 
got." 

"  Tets,  sir,  they're  nothing  at  all,"  said  Macneil. 
"  They're  pleesure  resorts  compared  wi'  Skerry- 
vore,  or  Ehu  Stoer,  or  Sule  Skerry  —  God,  sirs, 
yon's  a  wild  place !  There's  some  places  no' 
rightly  fit  for  men  to  dwell  in;  and  I  think  the 
Sule  Skerry's  one  o'  them." 

"  The  names  are  what  I  like,"  said  Lauder ; 
"you  could  tell  Sule  Skerry  wasn't  a  place  fit 
for  a  dog,  by  the  very  sound  of  it ! " 

Eichard  smiled  and  took  down  a  lighthouse 
directory.  "  If  you  take  some  of  the  Scotch  lights 
in  their  order  at  random,"  he  said,  "  you'll  get  a 
real  poem,  and  a  real  series  of  pictures.  Listen 
to  this;  I'll  read  them  out  of  the  book  in  their 
order,  only  I'll  divide  them  into  lines  so  that  they 
scan: 

"  Inchkeith,  Fidra,  Girdleness,  Buchanness, 
Covesea  Skerries,  Tarbet,  Stroma  Hell-yar-Holm! 
Auskerry,  Scadden,  Scroo,  Muckle  Flugga,  Sule  Skerry, 
Unst,  Cape  Wrath,  Khu  Stoer  and  Ushenish  !  " 


THE   BUILDER  59 

"  Gorgeous !  "  said  Lauder ;  "  it  makes  one  feel 
all  tired  and  buffeted  by  storms  to  hear  the  names. 
They  are  like  Nature's  oaths." 

But  Macneil  was  vastly  amused.  "  Well,  yon's 
one  way  o'  makin'  poetry,"  he  said ;  "  but  it's  no' 
vera  respectful-like  to  the  Board.  Well,  sirs,  I 
must  be  off  and  see  what  yon  loafers  are  up  to. 
I'll  maybe  see  you  again,  sir." 

"  I  begin  to  envy  you  your  profession,  Grey, 
and  the  people  it  makes.  There's  a  type  pro 
duced  by  every  occupation;  and  I  like  the  light 
house  type." 

"  Oh,  Macneil's  an  exception  —  but  he  is  of  the 
type,  although  at  its  best.  Yes;  it's  not  a  bad 
trade;  the  accessories  are  picturesque  enough." 

They  sat  and  smoked  for  awhile  in  silence,  lis 
tening  to  the  singing  of  the  wind  and  the  dash 
ing  of  the  rain.  Presently  Lauder's  eyes  wandered 
to  the  book-shelves,  and  he  became  interested. 

"  Let  me  see  what  you've  got :  —  R.  M.  Ballan- 
tyne,  Clark  Eussell,  Stevenson,  Hardy,  '  Hymns 
Ancient  and  Modern,'  '  Arabian  Nights,'  Taine, 
Carlyle,  Bernard  Shaw,  The  Holy  Bible,  Peclet 
—  Who's  Peclet?  I  never  heard  of  him"  —  and 
he  got  up  and  took  the  book  down.  "  Ah,  '  Traite" 
de  FEclairage'  de  M.  Peclet  —  a  charming  title, 
but  not  much  in  my  line.  I  like  M.  Peclet, 
though;  he's  got  a  good  name." 

"And  he  wrote  a  really  good  book,  which  is 


60  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

more  to  the  point.  It's  shop,  of  course,  but  it's 
as  interesting  as  a  novel.  I  see  you  looking  at 
old  Kobert  Stevenson's  account  of  Bell  Eock 
Lighthouse:  now,  there's  a  book!  His  grandson 
could  write,  I  admit  — (  Treasure  Island's '  on  the 
lower  shelf  —  but  he  never  wrote  anything  better 
than  that.  A  great  big  quarto,  consisting  of  a 
minute  account  of  every  day's  work  for  four  years 

—  what  the  weather  was  like,  where  the  wind  was 
blowing  from,  what  sort  of  sea  there  was,  how 
many  fathoms  cable  they  had  out  on  the  moorings 
of  the  tender,  how  John  this  sprained  his  ankle, 
or  Jaimie  that  let  go  the  guy-ropes  of  the  crane 

—  oh,  it's  awfully  good.     It's  the  classic  of  its 
kind.     And   then   his   son   Alan,   who  built  the 
Skerryvore,  tried  to  do  the  same  thing  again ;  but 
his  book  isn't  half  so  good.    Of  course  the  Skerry 
vore  is  the  swagger  rock  light,  but  they  had  the 
experience  of  Smeaton  and  old  Stevenson  to  go  on 
when  they  built  it ;  so  there's  a  bit  of  second-hand 
about  Alan's  book.     He  tried  to  make  it  just  as 
fat  as  his  father's,  and  had  it  printed  in  very 
big  type,  and  padded  it  out  all  he  knew  —  and 
even  then  he  had  to  bind  up  his  '  Notes  on  Il 
lumination  '  with  it.     He  tried  to  work  the  same 
attitude    about    the    solemnity    and    danger,    and 
Almighty  God,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  that  had 
come  so  naturally  to  his  father;    but  it  doesn't 
somehow  ring  true.     The  first  man  was  an  artist 
and  a  pioneer,  and  wrote  like  one;    the  son  was 


THE   BUILDER  61 

just  a  clever  engineer,  and  the  romantic  touch 
didn't  come  off.  All  the  same,  those  two  quartos 
ought  to  be  in  every  library  worth  the  name  — 
if  it  was  only  for  the  sake  of  their  connection  with 
a  great  family  of  craftsmen." 

"  There's  something  fascinating  about  families 
that  work  consistently  at  one  trade,"  said  Lauder 
—  "  like  the  glass-blowers  of  Murano ;  and  what 
a  pity  that  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  chucked  the 
family  business!  In  that  case  he  wouldn't  have 
poured  out  his  soul  in  books  and  made  the  world 
echo  with  his  feelings,"  he  added,  grimly. 

"  Why,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  don't  like 
his  books?" 

"  Well,  I  believe  them  to  be  good ;  but  they've 
been  spoiled  for  me  by  this  noise  his  friends  make 
about  him  and  his  woes  and  courage.  If  it  is 
fair  to  judge  authors  by  the  people  who  praise 
them  most,  Stevenson  comes  off  badly.  He  is 
belauded  too  much  by  two  classes :  the  people,  his 
inferiors,  to  whom  he  wrote  occasional  letters, 
and  who  find  themselves  in  the  index  of  his  books ; 
and  the  people  who,  every  time  they  bought  his 
books,  felt  that  they  were  contributing  toward  his 
travelling  expenses  to  Samoa." 

"  Really  ?  But  how  many  of  his  books  have  you 
read?" 

"  I've  read  two,  I  think  —  the  two  best,"  an 
swered  Lauder. 

"Well,  then,"   said   Richard,   "you're  talking 


62  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

without  knowledge.  Stevenson  is  the  one  author 
I  know  of  whom  it  is  true  to  say  that  until  you 
have  read  the  last  word  of  the  last  book  he  ever 
wrote,  you  can't  judge  him;  because  the  man 
himself  is  only  to  be  found  in  the  bulk  of  his 
work.  As  for  his  friends  —  we  won't  fall  out 
about  them/' 

"  I  see  that  you're  one  of  them,"  said  Lauder 
with  a  wry  face. 

"  Of  course  I  am,"  answered  Eichard  with 
spirit,  "  and  so  would  you  be,  if  you  weren't  prej 
udiced  by  something  that  has  nothing  to  do  with 
his  work.  Why  should  you,  a  stranger,  demand 
that  an  author's  friends  as  well  as  his  books  should 
all  be  delightful  to  you  ?  Anyhow,"  he  added  with 
a  smile,  "  remember  that  I'm  only  one  of  the 
people  who  know  him;  not  one  of  the  people 
that  'knew'  him!" 

"  Honestly,  Grey,  I  believe  that's  where  the  dif 
ference  lies.  '  I  knew  Stevenson,  you  know,'  is  a 
conversational  opening  I  have  learned  to  dread." 

"  Well,  anyhow,  you're  clearly  one  of  the  people 
who  don't  know  him ;  so  you'd  better  lie  low  until 
you've  read  some  more." 

The  two  men  sat  and  smoked  for  a  little  while 
in  silence,  hearkening  to  the  gusts  of  wind  and 
the  rain  dashing  on  the  window,  Eichard  smart 
ing  a  little  under  the  sense  of  helplessness  to 
prove  the  case  of  his  favorite  author,  Lauder  a 
little  surprised  at  this  display  of  book  enthusiasm 


THE   BUILDER  63 

on  the  part  of  the  out-of-door  man.  His  curiosity 
was  aroused.  The  choice  of  books  on  the  shelves 
hardly  interested  him  —  they  were  the  common 
place  choice  of  a  lonely  young  man  of  Eichard's 
generation  and  circumstances;  but  his  enthusi 
asm  for  them  seemed  to  be  of  a  rather  unusual 
and  non-literary  kind :  he  seemed  to  see  the  books 
rather  as  living  expressions  of  personality  than 
as  performances  of  art. 

"  I  like  quarrelling  about  books,"  resumed 
Eichard ;  "  it  heightens  one's  appreciation  of  a 
thing  to  defend  it.  From  the  way  your  eye  roves 
over  my  modest  bookcase  I  should  think  there's 
a  good  chance  of  my  liking  all  my  books  better 
before  you  go  away."  He  rose  and  walked  to  the 
bookcase,  took  down  a  volume,  and  put  it  on  the 
table.  "  Now  then ;  we'll  have  a  Day  of  Judg 
ment,  and  make  two  heaps  —  the  sheep  and  the 
goats.  '  Man  and  Superman  ? ' ; 

"  With  the  goats !  "  said  Lauder ;  "  as  you  love 
your  sheep,  put  that  fellow  with  the  goats ! " 

Eichard,  taken  by  surprise,  looked  first  aston 
ished,  and  then  amused,  as  he  laid  the  book  down. 

"  Man  and  Superman  ?  "  said  Lauder,  derisively ; 
"  mischief  and  supermischief !  Clever,  if  you  like ; 
as  clever  as  it  can  be,  but  futile  with  the  futility 
of  a  busy  ape.  It's  all  destructive:  he  takes  the 
machinery  of  life  to  pieces,  litters  the  floor  with 
it,  dances  on  it,  and  shouts  to  the  harmless,  neces 
sary  burgess,  '  Look,  I  have  unmade  the  world ! ' " 


64  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

"  Giving  him  a  horrid  shock,  of  course,"  said 
Kichard.  "  And  that  is  just  what  he  means  to 
do." 

"  And  what  would  he  achieve  ?  Who  is  going  to 
put  the  machinery  together  again  ?  " 

"  Bernard  Shaw,  of  course." 

"  Exactly.  And  do  you  want  to  live  in  a  Jaeger 
world?  No,  my  dear  Grey,  don't,  I  beseech  you, 
be  deceived  by  the  passion  for  subversion.  I've 
read  every  word  the  man  has  published,  and  been 
charmed  and  absorbed  and  fascinated ;  but  I  can't 
find  words  to  tell  you  how  untrue  the  essence  of  it 
is.  It  is  outside  life  and  humanity.  He's  the 
serpent  in  the  tangled  garden  of  this  world,  and 
would  like  to  have  us  all  out  into  the  wilderness 
of  intellectual  perfection.  He  offers  you  the  apple ; 
but  don't  tell  me  that  you  take  it ! " 

"  The  apple's  all  right,  Lauder ;  it's  your  diges 
tion,  I'm  afraid,  that's  not  quite  strong  enough 
for  it.  I  don't  know,  of  course,  if  you  hold  con 
ventional  views  about  life;  I  should  be  very  much 
surprised  to  learn  that  you  did;  but  when  you 
look  around  you  on  our  social  ruin  and  disorder, 
can  you  honestly  deny  what  he  says  ?  It  is  because 
he  is  really  clear-headed  and  clear-sighted,  and 
sees  things  as  they  are,  that  the  whole  world,, 
which  is  bilious  and  squint-eyed,  thinks  him 
wrong." 

"  I'd  rather  be  wrong  with  the  world  than  right 
with  Bernard  Shaw,"  said  Lauder. 


THE  BUILDER  65 

"  That,  of  course,  is  a  matter  of  taste ;  but  it 
is,  if  I  may  say  so,  also  unsound  and  cheap.  It's 
bad  policy,  too;  for  it's  the  kind  of  attack  that 
brings  the  world  to  your  enemy's  side.  I  have  no 
sympathy  with  your  aggression;  on  the  contrary. 
I  can't  overestimate  the  value  to  my  generation  of 
a  man  who  will  get  up  and  say  unpalatable  truths 
with  so  much  courage  and  clearness.  But  I  quite 
recognize  Bernard  Shaw's  practical  impossibility, 
because  he  is  only  a  single  voice,  and  a  voice  not 
tuned  to  the  same  pitch  as  the  chorus  he  is  trying 
to  lead.  A  law  of  injustice  has  always  governed 
the  world,  and  if  we  could  get  enough  Bernard 
Shaws  —  if  that  cry  could  be  kept  up  long  enough 
—  we  might  conceivably  get  a  chance.  But  because 
a  man  may  fail  from  lack  of  supporters  is  no 
reason  why  he  shouldn't  try/' 

"  But  the  fact  that  a  doctor  has  discovered  a 
cure  for  blindness  doesn't  justify  his  forcing  it 
on  every  one  whose  sight  is  imperfect.  The  world 
doesn't  want  Doctor  Shaw." 

"  That's  the  world's  attitude  to  every  one  who 
has  ever  tried  to  help  it,  from  Isaiah  and  Ezekiel 
to  Mr.  Chamberlain  and  General  Booth." 

"  Yes,  but  my  point  is  that  Doctor  Shaw  won't 
help  the  world.  He  is  more  interested  in  the  dis 
secting-room  than  in  the  convalescent  ward.  His 
treatment  is  merely  to  replace  the  sanatorium  with 
the  cemetery." 

"Prejudice  again,"   said  Eichard;    "it's  just 


66  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

that  attitude  of  yours  that  makes  it  so  hard  for 
an  Englishman  to  do  anything  without  self-con 
sciousness."  His  eyes  fell  on  the  green  volume, 
which  he  considered  for  a  moment.  "  If  '  Man 
and  Superman '  had  been  called  '  Le  Dieu  Mortel,' 
or  something  like  that,  and  bound  in  airy  yellow 
paper  covers,  you'd  have  hailed  it  as  a  gospel.  But 
because  it  hasn't  the  French  ephemeral  affectation, 
and  has  the  English  affectation  of  permanence, 
you  are  put  off.  When  a  Frenchman  has  written 
a  book  he  tosses  it  into  the  air,  while  the  English 
man  laboriously  dumps  his  on  the  library-table; 
one  has  an  eye  to  the  lady's  boudoir,  the  other  to 
the  British  Museum.  However,  we'll  leave  '  Man 
and  Superman '  among  the  goats,  and  go  on.  I'm 
enjoying  this." 

They  agreed  about  Hardy,  Marryat,  and  Dumas, 
who  all  went  among  the  sheep;  but  over  Henley, 
who  came  next,  a  difference  of  opinion  arose. 
Eichard  was  for  putting  him,  unchallenged,  on 
the  right  of  the  whiskey  bottle,  among  the  sheep; 
but  Lauder  protested. 

"  No,"  he  said ;  "  I'm  sorry.  I  read  my  Henley, 
and  I  don't  forget  he  wrote  '  0  gather  me  the 
rose,  the  rose ; '  all  the  same,  that  '  bloody  but 
unbowed '  attitude  is  impossible  and  can't  be  al 
lowed.  It's  not  decent," 

"  A  little  truculent,  perhaps ;  but  after  all,  how 
virile!" 

"  Truculent  bluster.     A  man  has  no  right  to 


THE   BUILDER  67 

make  poetry  while  his  head  is  bloody;  it  gets  on 
the  page." 

"But  hang  it!  That's  just  what  we  want  in 
this  kid-glove,  pro-Boer  age.  We  are  getting  to 
be  afraid  of  the  very  mention  of  anything  as  real 
and  red  as  blood,  and  Henley  is  to  be  thanked 
for  having  said  Elizabethan  things  in  Victorian 
verse." 

"  You  mean,  for  having  said  rude  things  in 
polite  verse.  There's  such  a  thing  as  sitting  self 
consciously  between  Victoria  and  Elizabeth  hold 
ing  a  hand  of  each;  but  can  you  in  that  case 
blame  Fate  for  its  bludgeonings  ?  " 

"  But  that's  just  what  he  didn't  do !  He  didn't 
complain;  he  bared  his  head." 

"  Woes  and  courage  again !  The  bared  fore 
head  indoors!  But,  joking  apart,  Henley  was  a 
man  who  mattered;  I  admit  that.  He  stood  for 
fresh  air  and  the  bloody  shovel  to  a  generation 
of  people  fed  up  with  the  stuffy  drawing-rooms 
and  silver  commemoration  spades  of  the  Albert 
period.  But  now  and  then  his  inspiring  march 
became  a  goose-step." 

Lauder  relit  his  pipe,  which  had  grown  impa 
tient  of  his  eloquence,  and  resumed  his  chair. 
Eichard  was  searching  in  one  of  the  volumes  before 
him  for  some  clinching  quotation,  and  the  elder 
man  had  time  to  admire  the  clean-cut  features, 
clear  serene  brow,  dark  eyes,  and  sallow  tanned 
skin  of  the  engineer.  Presently  Richard  put  the 


68  THE   SANDS    OF   PLEASURE 

book  down.  "  I  think  we  will  put  Henley  among 
the  sheep,  if  you  please,"  he  said.  "  In  all  the 
real  battles  he  was  on  the  right  side.  I  should 
feel  myself  much  the  poorer  without  him." 

"  Well,  I  give  in  about  Henley,"  said  Lauder ; 
"  one  can  do  that  in  his  case  without  being  blind 
to  his  faults.  But,  gad,  what  odd  things  books 
are !  Sometimes  they  seem  to  be  the  only  possible 
companions,  and  sometimes  they  seem  like  a  kind 
of  intellectual  fungus  or  disease.  And  the  people 
who  write  them!  They  are  the  most  self-con 
scious  performers  in  the  world  of  art,  don't  you 
think?  In  fact,  it  is  not  art  with  most  of  them; 
they  are  artisans  instead  of  artists.  Journalists 
are  the  only  real  artists  in  letters  —  the  best  of 
them,  I  mean.  They  work  gaily  with  the  spirit 
of  their  own  time." 

"  Well,  they  may  be  clever,"  said  Richard ;  "  but 
after  all,  their  work  isn't  big  enough.  They  are 
only  amusing  or  instructing,  and  surely  there's 
never  enough  of  the  man  himself  in  their  work  to 
make  it  permanently  valuable.  I  sometimes  think 
that  the  most  interesting  things  in  books  are 
what  get  there  by  accident  —  the  author's  view 
of  life,  and  that  sort  of  thing.  After  all,  a  man 
of  genius  is  only  a  man  whose  sight  is  clearer 
than  the  average,  and  who  has  a  knowledge  of  the 
relative  values  of  things,  and  a  sense  of  perspec 
tive.  We  can't  all  have  the  up-stairs  view  of  life, 
and  if  we  had,  we  shouldn't  realize  that,  although 


THE   BUILDER  69 

a  thing  a  long  way  off  looks  small,  it  may  really 
be  big  and  important.  That  seems  to  me  the  real 
value  of  books  —  a  sort  of  perspective  glass  for 
the  majority." 

"  You  ought  to  talk  to  my  sister  about  books ; 
you  and  she  would  agree.  She  is  always  pitching 
into  me  for  my  frivolous  opinions.  And  that  re 
minds  me,"  Lauder  added,  rising,  "  Lady  Killard 
told  me  to  ask  you  to  come  to  tea  on  Sunday." 

"  Thanks,  I  shall  be  delighted,"  said  Eichard. 
"  It's  no  good  going  yet ;  the  rain'll  be  over  in  a 
minute;  sit  down  and  finish  off  the  sheep  and 
goats." 

Lauder,  only  half-reluctant,  returned  to  the 
table;  and  together  the  two  men  fell  spiritedly 
upon  one  another's  theories;  Richard  entrenching 
himself  behind  solid  opinions  and  serene  confi 
dences,  rather  purposely  tempting  Lauder  to  an 
extreme  of  destructive  criticism;  and  Lauder  wil 
fully  exaggerating  his  often  shrewd  and  often 
superficial  estimates  for  the  sake  of  the  solid  front 
of  opposition  he  raised  in  Richard's  mind.  He 
was  intolerant  of  the  unconscious  insincerity  of 
which  he  accused  so  many  of  the  authors,  and 
deprecated  their  attempts  to  make  a  corner  in 
their  particular  intellectual  wares  —  "a  little 
booth-holder  in  a  fair"  was  his  name  for  one 
propagandist  admired  by  Richard. 

As  they  talked,  however,  and  exchanged  their 
half-serious  views  in  the  little  wind-beaten  cabin, 


70  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

something  other  than  opinion  grew  out  of  their 
conversation.  Kichard  Grey,  unused  of  late  to 
friendship,  found  himself  warming  toward  this 
man  of  the  world,  so  well  equipped  with  curiosity 
and  mind;  while  Lauder  on  his  part  was  de 
lighted  with  the  combination  of  simplicity  and 
subtlety  that  distinguished  the  mind  of  the  engi 
neer.  He  led  Kiehard  on  to  speak  of  his  work, 
which  he  did  with  sense  and  enthusiasm;  plied 
him  with  questions,  and  rejoiced  in  the  human, 
virile,  and  picturesque  glamour  in  which  he  pre 
sented  the  scientific  details  of  his  labor;  and, 
before  he  left,  found  himself  unusually  attracted 
by  Eichard  Grey's  personality.  The  builder  of 
lighthouses,  on  the  other  hand,  liked  Lauder  for 
his  essentially  clear  mind,  and  for  a  certain  wise 
acre  air  with  which  he  invested  his  charming 
cynicism.  In  a  word,  that  strange  emanation 
which  we  call  friendship  began  to  emerge  from 
their  conversation;  there  was  on  both  sides  a 
deliberate  cultivation  of  the  rare  gift  of  intimacy. 

They  were  too  deeply  absorbed  in  their  talk  to 
notice  that  the  rain-squalls  had  ceased;  and  were 
recalled  from  some  remote  region  of  metaphysics 
by  a  knock  at  the  door  and  the  entrance  of  a 
seaman. 

"Beg  pardon,  sir,"  he  said  to  Eichard,  "but 
Mr.  Macneil  says  the  sea's  gone  down  a  bit,  and 
he'd  like  to  try  to  get  off  to  the  rock." 

"  All  right,"  said  the  engineer,  rising,  and  turn- 


THE   BUILDER  71 

ing  to  Lander,  "you'll  excuse  me,  but  time  and 
tide,  you  know  —  " 

Lauder  noticed  the  sudden  change  that  came 
over  Kichard  Grey  at  this  interruption.  At  one 
stroke  the  reader  of  books,  the  solitary,  vanished; 
and  in  his  place  appeared  the  workman,  eager, 
alert,  competent.  As  he  hurried  into  his  sea-boots 
the  dog  Eufus  jumped  up  with  a  whine  and  stood 
at  the  door  wagging  his  tail.  Lauder  watched 
approvingly  Richard's  quick  movements,  his  care 
ful  eye  that  took  in  from  the  open  door  every 
movement  of  the  men  down  at  the  boats,  his  gen 
eral  air  of  mastery  of  the  situation. 

"  You'll  come  and  see  Lady  Killard  some  after 
noon  ?  "  he  said,  as  Richard  turned  to  go. 

"  With  pleasure,"  he  answered,  "  the  first  after 
noon  I  can  get  away.  So  long !  "  And  whistling 
to  the  dog,  he  hurried  away  down  the  path. 

Lauder  watched  the  two  figures,  the  hurrying 
man  and  the  eager  dog,  scrambling  down  the  cliff 
path.  The  sun  had  come  out,  and  shone  the  more 
brightly  for  the  recent  showers.  Rain-drops  edged 
everything  and  glittered  in  its  bright  rays.  He 
watched  the  boats  lurching  over  the  swell  to  where 
the  sea  broke  white  against  the  rocks,  and  saw 
them  make  a  successful  landing  on  the  inner 
creek.  And  as  he  turned  away  the  chink  of  tools 
rose  up,  a  bright  chiming  sound  that  seemed  to 
belong  to  the  sunshine,  the  breaking  iridescent 
spray,  and  the  glittering  rain-drops. 


IV 


IN  the  garden  of  the  little  cottage  perched  on 
the  cliffs  of  Poltesco  Bay  Lady  Killard  and 
her  two  guests  were  sitting  out  the  heat  of  a 
summer  afternoon.  The  sky  was  cloudless,  the 
sea,  for  once,  dead  calm,  shining  and  motionless; 
and  there  came  a  deep  vague  harmony  from  invis 
ible  hosts  of  bees  that  hung  about  the  garden. 
Lauder  was  lying  on  his  back,  looking  up  at  the 
sky  through  a  hole  in  the  brim  of  his  straw  hat; 
his  sister  Margaret  had  gathered  her  long  slim 
limbs  into  a  silk  hammock,  and  lay  apparently 
absorbed  in  a  book;  Lady  Killard  was  sitting 
in  a  garden  chair  eating  green  apples,  and  pre 
tending  to  be  discontented  with  life. 

The  two  women  made  a  happy  contrast:  Mar 
garet  Lauder  tall,  lissom,  dark,  rather  grave  of 
face,  and  clear-browed  under  the  mass  of  her 
brown  hair;  Lady  Killard  informed  throughout, 
from  her  toes  to  her  fair  hair,  with  a  kind  of 
youthful  crumpled  prettiness  that  was  crowned 
and  distinguished  and  redeemed  from  insignif 
icance  by  her  pale  Irish  eyes. 

"  This  sudden  irruption  of  full  summer  is  ab- 
72 


THE  BUILDER  73 

surd,"  she  said.  "  Here  we  are,  after  days  of 
cold  east  wind,  suddenly  roasted  almost  to  death. 
And  of  course  the  garden  isn't  ready,"  she  com 
plained,  her  eye  wandering  over  the  somewhat 
unruly  little  domain.  "  It  annoys  me  to  see  every 
thing  busy  with  a  lot  of  silly  green  buds,  but  all 
behindhand.  A  day  like  this  makes  buds  look 
foolish.  And  look  at  the  waste  of  it !  Think  how 
nice  this  lawn  would  be  if  the  bulbs  would  only 
come  up  instead  of  self-consciously  saving  them 
selves  for  next  winter.  Why  can't  we  have  hya 
cinths  in  June  ?  " 

Lauder  spoke  lazily.  "  Nature's  nothing  if  not 
commercial.  It's  all  barter  and  exchange  —  a  bud 
for  a  shower,  a  flower  for  a  day's  sunshine." 

"  That's  not  commerce,  John,  it's  encourage 
ment,"  said  Margaret,  putting  her  book  down. 
"  I  like  things  to  be  rewarded ;  besides,  it  gives 
point  to  a  cloud  to  connect  it  with  a  flower." 

"  Clouds  are  the  only  things  that  make  a  sky 
interesting,  and  that's  what  they're  for  —  you 
can't  paint  a  cloudless  sky.  This  brazen  blue 
thing  isn't  a  sky  at  all." 

His  voice  tailed  off  into  a  sigh  as  he  succumbed 
to  the  heat.  The  air  danced  and  shimmered, 
even  the  butterflies  seemed  to  faint  in  the  golden 
atmosphere ;  the  sea  slumbered  at  the  foot  of  the 
cliffs,  so  that  there  was  for  awhile  no  sound  to 
mingle  with  the  unending  song  of  the  bees'  sweet 
labor. 


74  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

Lady  Killard  broke  the  charmed  silence. 
"  Thank  God  for  green  apples !  "  she  said ;  "  they 
keep  me  alive." 

Lauder  looked  at  her  appreciatively  as  she 
picked  up  another  one,  set  her  small  teeth,  pearly 
and  even  like  a  puppy's,  into  its  pale  rind,  and 
bit  sharply  into  it.  "  They'll  probably  give  you 
pains,"  he  said ;  "  but  I  know  now  why  they  were 
invented.  To  see  you  bite  them  helps  me  to  believe 
in  another  world." 

Lady  Killard  took  no  notice,  but  looked  rov- 
ingly  over  the  garden,  and  again  became  discon 
tented.  "  Green  may  be  restful,"  she  said,  "  but 
a  garden  as  green  as  this  is  absurd.  Where  are 
the  flowers  ?  I  thought  I'd  massed  great  banks  of 
color  all  over  the  place,  and  where  are  they? 
Nothing  but  a  forest  of  green  stalks  and  leaves." 

"  Gardening  seems  to  me  a  most  inexact 
science,"  said  Margaret  Lauder.  "  How  much 
nicer  it  would  be  if  you  could  make  the  colors 
come  in  an  orderly  way  —  a  blue  month,  a  green 
month,  a  red  month,  a  yellow  month,  and  so  on." 

"  —  All  your  enjoyment  in  six  pictures !  " 

"  Ah !  and  that's  the  vice  of  your  orderly 
mind,"  put  in  her  brother.  "  You  would  even 
bring  about  a  worse  vice  —  the  vice  of  mood  in 
a  garden.  Give  me  rather  a  month  of  wild  riot, 
everything  coming  out  together  —  a  thing  like  a 
Dutch  picture,  with  a  tulip  in  the  same  plot  as 


THE   BUILDER  75 

a  larkspur,  and  sweet  peas  and  snowdrops  crowded 
into  one  border !  " 

"  That  would  be  like  your  improvidence." 

"  Well,  providence  is  a  great  mistake.  I've 
worked  hard  enough  in  this  ungrateful  soil,  and, 
if  Jane  will  let  me,  I'll  now  let  the  whole  thing 
go  on  its  own  sweet  way.  I'd  like  to  come  in 
spring  with  a  basketful  of  mixed  seeds,  sow  them 
broadcast,  and  see  what  happens." 

"  Some  would  fall  on  stony  ground,  some  among 
tares,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  would  get  the  rest," 
laughed  Lady  Killard. 

"  What  are  tares  ?  "  asked  Margaret.  "  I've 
always  wanted  to  know.  I  think  it  would  be  nice 
to  have  a  bed  of  tares,  and  rob  that  foolish  parable 
once  and  for  all  of  its  terrors." 

"  Go  and  look  at  the  ranunculus  bed,"  said  Lady 
Killard,  "  and  you  will  see  what  tares  are ;  or 
ask  John  —  " 

"  That  is  ungrateful  of  you ;  I  have  spent  many 
back-breaking  hours  over  that  bed.  Besides,  as  a 
practical  gardener,  I  object  on  principle  to  a  bed 
of  tares.  I  spend  my  days  trying  to  keep  order 
in  this  garden,  and  it  has  quite  enough  tendency 
as  it  is  to  lose  its  presence  of  mind." 

"  A  garden's  a  light-headed  thing  at  the  best," 
said  Lady  Killard,  throwing  away  the  core  of  her 
last  apple,  and  opening  her  sunshade.  "  It  loses 
its  head  over  the  bees  and  butterflies,  doesn't  it, 
Margaret  ?  " 


76  THE   SANDS    OF   PLEASURE 

"  The  really  sad  thing  is  that  your  butterfly's 
an  uncritical  fop.  He  doesn't  choose  the  best 
flowers,  he  only  stumbles  on  them  by  accident." 

"Anyhow,  he  has  the  power  to  turn  a  whole 
garden  hysterical." 

"  It  would  make  any  one  hysterical  to  have  only 
one  thing  with  which  to  accomplish  your  purpose. 
Think  of  it !  no  mind,  no  movement  —  only  being 
beautiful  so  intensely  that  it  goes  to  your  head, 
and  gives  you  hysteria." 

"  I  don't  know  why  you  are  talking  about  hys 
teria,"  murmured  Lauder,  whom  the  word  had 
apparently  roused  from  slumber,  "  except  that  it 
has  a  sort  of  garden  sound.  But  it's  a  perfectly 
horrible  word,  and  a  perfectly  horrible  idea  —  a 
hideous  practical  joke  only  fit  to  be  played  on 
pigs." 

"As  it  was  once,  if  I  remember  right,  with 
great  success,"  said  Lady  Killard  — "  on  the 
Gadarene  swine." 

"  So  it  was,"  sitting  up  and  pushing  back  his 
hat ;  "  the  only  case  on  record  in  which  pigs  have 
cut  a  really  heroical  figure.  I  think  I  can  see  it 
—  that  mad  swoop  into  the  sea !  It  would  have 
been  unfair  on  any  other  animal;  but  the  pig  — 
conceive  it !  the  pig,  gross  and  sluggish,  but  moved 
for  once  by  an  impulse  ignoble  and  ridiculous,  but 
still  heroic,  takes  a  rollicking  plunge  into  fame! 
It  was  the  apotheosis  of  hysteria ! " 

A  prim  maid,  who  had  been  waiting  in  the  back- 


THE  BUILDER  77 

ground  until  this  outburst  should  have  come  to 
an  end,  now  advanced  amid  the  laughter  that  fol 
lowed  it,  with  pursed  lips  and  averted  head,  to 
prepare  the  tea-table.  With  the  self-conscious 
gravity  of  the  servant  whose  mind  in  the  presence 
of  her  superiors  is  fixed  beyond  wonder  or  amuse 
ment,  she  set  forth  the  cloth  and  tea-things  with 
a  religious  and  assiduous  air,  like  an  acolyte  serv 
ing  the  holy  table. 

"  I  should  look  after  that  girl,"  said  Lauder, 
as  she  went  away ;  "  she  seems  sensitive  on  the 
point  of  the  Gadarene  swine." 

Lady  Killard  interrupted  him.  "  Thank  good 
ness  here's  tea,  and  I  hope  nobody  will  come." 

"  No  one  likely  to,  except  Grey  —  you  know  I 
told  him  you  would  like  him  to  come  some  after 
noon." 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  like  Mr.  Grey  —  he's  got  those 
nice  brown  understanding  eyes,  and  the  ways  of 
an  ingratiating  child.  Margaret  dear,  you'd  like 
him;  I  hope  he'll  come." 

"  He's  the  engineer-man  down  at  the  lighthouse 
works,  isn't  he  ?  He  ought  to  be  nice  if  he  always 
lives  on  rocks  and  makes  such  magnificent  things 
as  lighthouses." 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,"  said  Lauder,  "he's  an 
uncommonly  pleasant  and  intelligent  fellow.  I 
told  you,  Jane,  I  took  quite  a  fancy  to  him  the 
other  day  when  I  went  to  see  him.  He's  as  grave 
as  a  judge  about  anything  he  takes  seriously." 


78  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

"  What  does  he  take  seriously  ? "  asked  Mar 
garet. 

"  Oh,  books  and  his  work  —  I  can't  make  out 
which  he's  keenest  on.  If  you  see  him  talking 
about  Henley  or  Dumas  you'd  think  he  cared  for 
nothing  but  stuffing  in  a  library;  but  over  his 
drawings  and  instruments,  and  stone  lighters  and 
balance  cranes,  he's  another  creature.  And  he 
admires  Robert  Louis  Stevenson ! " 

"  Well,  naturally,  if  he's  as  sensible  as  you  make 
him  out,"  said  his  sister. 

"  I  knew  that  would  draw  you !  Well,  you'll 
find  he  has  many  of  your  heresies.  Do  my  eyes 
deceive  me,  or  are  those  caviare  sandwiches  ?  " 

Lauder,  who  could  always  talk  himself  into  a 
genial  humor,  and  who  loved  arguing  with  his 
sister,  or  indeed  with  any  worthy  opponent,  was 
now  quite  alert  and  lively,  and  the  meal  went  mer 
rily.  Their  talk  was  the  perishable  nonsense  that 
may  nevertheless  be  so  vital  and  entertaining  in 
its  own  moment.  They  were  in  the  full  flight 
of  some  extravagant  conversational  scena  when  the 
click  of  the  garden  gate  drew  their  attention,  and 
Richard,  followed  by  a  deprecating  Rufus,  made 
his  appearance. 

He  was  made  welcome,  a  garden  seat  provided 
for  him,  and  the  unwonted  luxuries  of  feminine 
tea  set  before  him.  Out  of  his  working  environ 
ment  he  seemed  to  Lauder  both  a  little  more  ordi 
nary,  and,  oddly  enough,  a  little  more  himself. 


THE  BUILDER  79 

The  anxious,,  intent  look  which  he  generally 
wore  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  rock  had  van 
ished  ;  and  in  its  place  appeared  the  serene  expres 
sion  of  one  who  finds  himself  at  home  in  the  world. 

"  This  is  really  nice  of  you,  Mr.  Grey,"  said 
Lady  Killard,  "  to  tear  yourself  away  from  those 
wonderful  instruments  and  drawings  of  yours. 
Mr.  Lauder  has  been  telling  us  all  about  them." 

"  And  about  the  lighthouse,"  said  Margaret. 
"  I  am  half  in  love  with  your  white  tower  already. 
Do  tell  me  what  you  do  when  you  build  a  light 
house." 

"Well,"  said  Richard,  turning  to  her  with  the 
engaging,  deprecating  air  with  which  he  generally 
spoke  of  his  work,  "  there's  really  not  much  to  tell 
about  it.  You'd  much  better  come  and  see  it 
some  day.  We  begin  on  the  lantern  to-morrow, 
so  the  building  is  practically  finished.  You  know 
we  had  an  awful  tussle  with  the  Trinity  people  — 
they  wanted  to  put  it  on  Poltesco  Head,  where  the 
light  would  have  been  three  hundred  feet  above 
the  sea.  Much  too  high,  of  course ;  but  they  have 
an  idea  in  their  heads  that  you  can't  be  too  high. 
And  they  hate  rock  lights  —  I  don't  mind  telling 
you,  because  they  don't  always  build  them  right: 
the  Scotch  people  are  the  fellows  for  rock  lights. 
You  see,  it's  all  a  matter  of  weight  and  resist 
ance,  and  they  don't  always  work  out  the  thrust 
of  the  waves  properly." 

"  It  certainly  must  need  more  than  mere  science 


80  THE   SANDS    OF   PLEASURE 

to  meet  the  thrust  of  the  waves,"  Margaret  said, 
smiling. 

"  Oh,  no,"  he  answered,  "  there's  nothing  that 
science  can't  do,  if  only  you  know  enough.  That 
dealing  with  the  thrust  of  the  waves  is  merely  a 
matter  of  observation,  and  an  infinite  number  of 
experiments;  but  chiefly  patience  and  observa 
tion." 

"  And  how  much  have  the  waves  allowed  you  to 
learn  about  them,  Mr.  Grey  ?  "  asked  Lady  Killard, 
gravely. 

"  Oh,  practically  everything ;  because,  you  see, 
I've  got  my  father's  instruments.  Down  at  the 
Snail  Eocks  last  winter  the  mean  thrust  as  indi 
cated  by  his  machine  was  six  thousand  and  fifty 
for  the  six  winter  months,  and  for  the  six  summer 
months  it  was  less  than  two  thousand.  So  of 
course  I  had  to  build  for  about  triple  the  weight 
of  the  maximum  record." 

There  was  a  pause.  She  looked  out  across  the 
gorse  to  where  the  great  blue  plain  lay  flecked 
and  wrinkled  with  its  ripples.  "  I  wonder  if  they 
have  any  idea  what  you're  about,"  she  said.  "  I 
wonder  if  they  let  you  live  out  of  mercy  or  igno 
rance." 

He  followed  her  gaze  to  where  the  foam  was 
curling  about  the  Snail  Kocks. 

"  Oh,  we've  had  lots  of  tussles,"  he  replied, 
"  and  pretty  bad  ones.  You  remember  the  storm 
three  winters  ago,  when  the  beacon  was  smashed? 


THE   BUILDER  81 

But  the  tower  is  there  still,  standing  where  we 
put  it  —  and  it's  going  to  stay  there,  too,"  he 
added. 

"  But  the  beacon  was  smashed,"  she  murmured, 
looking  at  him. 

"  The  beacon  was  smashed,"  he  repeated,  return 
ing  her  look  with  an  assured  smile;  "but  then 
its  purpose  had  been  served.  It  wasn't  meant  to 
last." 

"  It  must  be  a  discouraging  thing  to  know  one 
isn't  meant  to  last,"  said  Margaret.  "  I  hope  the 
stones  of  your  tower  know  that  they  are  immortal. 
I  like  to  think  that  there  are  some  human  achieve 
ments  that  aren't  afraid  of  time,  and  waves,  and 
the  forces  that  break  things  up." 

Lander's  voice  broke  in.  "  With  all  due  respect 
to  your  building,  Grey,  I  think  its  immortality 
can  be  measured.  I  should  put  it  at  about  six 
hundred  years." 

"  About  that,  I  suppose,"  assented  Kichard. 
"After  all,  I  dare  say  it's  a  weakness  to  try  to 
set  up  immortal  things." 

"  Nothing  that  lasts  can  be  immortal,"  said 
Lauder.  "  Even  stones  and  rocks  go  down  at 
last  before  things  as  soft  as  waves  and  wind.  If 
I  want  any  part  in  immortality  —  and  I'm  not 
sure  that  I  do  —  I  shall  look  for  it  in  flimsier 
things  than  rocks." 

"I   wonder,"   said   Kichard.     "You   see.    I've 


82  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

never  worked  with  anything  much  flimsier  than 
rock  and  steel." 

"  —  Or  against  anything  much  flimsier  than 
waves/'  put  in  Lady  Killard. 

"  —  Or  with  anything  more  durable  than  gran 
ite?"  asked  Margaret. 

Eichard  laughed.  "  Well,  but  what  are  these 
immortal  things?  You're  all  pitching  into  me, 
but  I  don't  seem  to  have  come  across  them  much. 
You  make  me  feel  as  if  I'd  been  wasting  my  time. 
Do  you  mean "  —  and  he  spoke  rather  more 
gravely  —  "  forces  of  the  intellect,  and  passions, 
and  that  sort  of  thing  ?  " 

"  You  may  call  it  by  what  name  you  like,"  re 
plied  Lauder  with  a  gravity  that  he  had  not 
hitherto  displayed ;  "  but  there's  a  force  that  has 
swept  through  the  world  since  the  beginning  of 
time.  You  feel  it  everywhere  in  the  world  of 
men,  pulling  at  your  heart,  gorgeous  exaltations 
at  its  flood,  and  death  at  its  ebb.  You  may  never 
have  heard  it  roaring,  Grey,  you've  been  so  busy 
wave-measuring  that  perhaps  you've  never  lis 
tened;  but  when  you  do,  I  think  you  will  never 
get  its  sound  out  of  your  ears.  It's  all  a  matter 
of  human  masses;  it  whispers  to  you  in  a  village 
and  deafens  you  in  big  cities.  It's  the  vital  force 
of  the  world.  My  God,  and  what  don't  people  do 
to  stop  their  ears !  They  shut  themselves  up  from 
it,  and  their  hand  loses  its  cunning;  they  build 
churches,  and  it  comes  in  at  the  door;  they  starve 


THE   BUILDER  83 

their  flesh  and  their  spirit,  and  only  find  that 
they  have  made  sounding-boards  of  themselves. 
No,  there's  no  escape,  nothing  for  it  but  to  take 
one's  share." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  "  Well,  I've  no 
doubt  I  shall  come  across  it  in  time,"  said  Eich- 
ard ;  "  but  at  present  I've  time  for  nothing  more 
serious  than  granite."  And  he  looked  smiling 
at  Miss  Lauder. 

"That's  not  fair,"  she  said.  "I  haven't  too 
much  faith  in  John's  theory  of  the  human  cur 
rent:  it  doesn't  always  bear  investigation.  But 
to  build  a  lighthouse "  —  she  smiled  and  looked 
toward  Poltesco  Head  —  "  that  is  work." 

"  Tell  me,  Mr.  Grey,  aren't  you  some  relation  to 
old  Sir  Peter  Grey  in  Eaton  Square  ?  "  asked  Lady 
Killard,  who  thought  that  the  conversation  was  in 
danger  of  becoming  too  serious  for  a  hot  day. 

Richard  laughed  disrespectfully.  "  His  nephew, 
unfortunately.  It's  rather  hard  that  my  only 
living  relations  should  be  Uncle  Peter  and  Aunt 
Anne ! " 

"But  why?  I  always  thought  the  general  was 
such  an  old  dear." 

"  Well,  perhaps  he  is ;  but  not  to  me.  He  don't 
like  and  don't  approve  of  me.  I  go  to  Harle  Court 
dutifully  every  autumn,  and  we  endure  each  other 
for  a  month;  but  honestly,  I  can't  get  on  with 
the  Early  Victorians  —  I'm  too  near  them,  I  sup- 


84  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

pose.  Talk  of  granite !  "  and  he  turned  again  to 
Miss  Lauder,  "  I'd  rather  deal  with  serpentine !  " 

"  But  you  know/'  she  smiled  at  him,  "  I  rather 
like  the  pork-pie  hat  and  rakish  feather  in  old 
ladies." 

"Well  then,  you'd  like  my  aunt,"  he  laughed. 
"  You'd  find  the  rakish  feather,  a  sort  of  emblem 
of  a  desperate  past,  incongruously  crowning  the 
pork-pie  hat;  and  she  pats  her  hair  as  if  it  were 
still  in  a  chenille  net,  and  is  always  putting  her 
hand  to  the  bosom  of  her  dress  to  arrange  lockets 
and  trinkets  that  are  no  longer  there.  She's 
picturesque  in  her  way;  but  Uncle  Peter!  I'm 
sure  he  was  an  inefficient  general ;  and  he  spends 
his  days  now,  having  commanded  men  unsuccess 
fully  all  his  life,  drilling  the  servants,  who  are 
paid  to  obey,  and  who  snigger  behind  his  back  at 
his  Brigade  Orders  and  Fire  Drill;  and  trying 
to  general  the  flowers  in  the  garden  —  forming 
them  up  in  quarter  column  and  firing  volleys  of 
water  at  them !  " 

"  Of  course,  it's  the  period  you  object  to,"  said 
Lauder,  who  had  been  becoming  restive. 

"  Now  we  are  really  in  for  it,"  said  his  sister. 
"  Mr.  Grey,  how  tiresome  you  are !  You  have 
started  John  on  one  of  his  most  deadly  theories, 
'  The  Period ' !  " 

"  But  what  period  ?  "  asked  Eichard,  puzzled. 

"Why,  the  Albert  Period,  of  course,"  said 
Lauder.  He  got  up  from  his  chair  and  stood  con- 


THE   BUILDER  85 

fronting  his  audience.  "  The  period  of  South 
Kensington,  the  Crystal  Palace,  the  Albert  Memo 
rial;  the  streaming  whisker  and  flying  coat-tail 
period;  the  deadly  period  of  English  prosperity 
and  happiness.  A  good  man  unfortunately  gave 
his  name  to  a  whole  age  of  silliness  —  Albertism. 
It  wasn't  his  fault;  but  the  name  sticks." 

"  Of  course  you  always  exaggerate,  John ;  that 
period  was  the  nursery  of  all  sorts  of  good  things. 
It  was  the  golden  age  of  the  English  home,  for 
one  thing." 

"  The  gilded  age  of  the  Family  Picture ! " 

"  Let  him  rip,  Jane,"  murmured  Margaret. 

"It  was  the  age  of  shams  and  symbols,"  he 
went  on  with  genial  wrath.  "  People  had  no 
opinions;  they  had  beliefs.  They  didn't  think; 
they  were  thoughtful.  They  had  good  noses  and 
vacant  eyes,  noble  brows  and  weak  button  mouths ; 
there  was  no  youth  or  age  —  the  two  charming 
periods  —  only  maturity ;  children  were  sup 
pressed,  and  the  makers  of  children  glorified. 
Their  minds  were  sombre  and  upholstered,  stuffed 
with  facts,  and  covered  with  an  intellectual  rep 
which  was  pompousness.  Look  at  their  works, 
their  tastes !  Frith,  Landseer,  Mendelssohn,  Cow- 
per,  and  South  Kensington!  A  long  age  of 
vaporish  meditation  results  in  —  the  Crystal  Pal 
ace.  Alas  that  limitations  of  space  should  make 
it  impossible  that  the  Albert  Memorial  should  ever 
fall  down  and  crush  the  Crystal  Palace!  Taste! 


86  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

It  was  the  period  of  the  birth  of  self-conscious 
'  taste ; '  the  age  of  the  stuffed-leather  binding, 
padded  and  scented;  the  age  of  the  panorama, 
of  '  views '  —  " 

"  The  age,  remember,  when  people  stopped 
building  houses  in  the  middle  of  a  town,  and  put 
them  where  they  could  have  a  horizon,"  put  in 
Margaret. 

"Let  him  rip,  Margaret,"  said  Lady  Killard, 
mischievously. 

Lauder  began  to  pace  up  and  down  the  lawn  in 
front  of  them.  "  The  Albert  man  was  a  terror ; 
a  terror,"  he  repeated,  with  a  smile  which  was 
meant  to  be  sardonic.  "  See  him  flying,  be- 
whiskered,  be-coat-tailed,  be-collared,  and  be-cuffed 
(it  was  the  age  of  the  detachable  cuff),  an  un 
happy,  suppressed  child  on  each  arm,  to  hear  an 
oratorio  at  the  Crystal  Palace!  See  him  in  the 
Home,  pasting  rubbish  into  a  scrap-book,  or  turn 
ing  the  handle  of  a  stereoscope,  and  looking  at 
views!  See  him  in  public  life,  dull,  vain,  pom 
pous,  and  timid,  a  bully  and  a  snob !  See  him  in 
science  —  a  Lubbock  or  a  Darwin  —  self-con 
sciously  looking  at  a  piece  of  cheese  through  a 
microscope,  and  thinking  he  sees  the  wonders  of 
nature;  being  thrilled  by  the  daring  of  the  im 
pudent  and  preposterous  bogey  of  Evolution, 
preaching  sermons  from  the  articulation  of  a  flea's 
hind  leg!  See  him  as  posterity  will  see  him, 
standing  in  a  public  garden,  thrilled  to  his  very 


THE   BUILDER  87 

whiskers  by  the  sight  of  a  sky-rocket,  entangled 
and  tripped  up  by  his  own  coat-tails,  simpering 
in  an  age  of  commemorations  and  rewards,  memo 
rials,  fireworks,  and  detonations !  "  Lauder  sat 
down  and  began  to  fill  a  pipe,  and  there  was  peace 
for  a  moment. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  John  in  his  latest  part, 
Mr.  Grey  ?  "  asked  Margaret. 

"  I  enjoy  it  beyond  words :  it's  enchanting," 
said  Eichard. 

"  A  pity  it's  mostly  rubbish,  John,  dear,"  said 
Margaret.  "  It  seems  a  shame  to  prick  your 
bubbles,  but  —  " 

"  It's  not  rubbish,"  said  John,  seriously  for  the 
first  time.  "  Go  back  a  little ;  how  different  the 
Regency  days  were !  " 

"  The  Eegency  days  were  only  a  period  of  ban 
queting:  and  what  you  call  the  Albert  period 
was  a  period  of  digestion." 

"  Or  indigestion,"  put  in  Eichard,  mischie 
vously. 

"  You  have  hit  it  in  one  word,  Grey,"  said 
Lauder.  "  The  Albert  man  was  always  taking 
intellectual  powders  and  dosing  himself  with 
syrups." 

"  Well,  he  was  physically  healthy,  thank  good 
ness  ! "  said  Lady  Killard. 

"  I'm  sorry,  Jane,  but  that's  just  what  he 
wasn't.  In  actual  fact  he  glorified  the  dentist, 


88  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

whose  social  rise  he  witnessed,  and  he  substituted 
the  doctor  for  the  leech." 

"  Dear  John ! "  said  Lady  Killard,  "  you  are 
charming.  Go  on  again." 

"  Oh,  there's  nothing  to  be  said  to  scoffers/' 
laughed  Lauder,  "  except  that  the  Albert  Period 
was  the  age  of  the  volunteer,  the  sentimental 
Highlander,  Euston  Station,  and  the  invention 
of  Scotland;  the  age  of  the  whatnot,  the  occa 
sional  table,  and  the  scrap-book  —  all  for  the  ac 
cumulation  and  preservation  of  perishable  rub 
bish  ! " 

"  And  to  heighten  the  tragedy,  some  really  good 
things  found  their  way  into  the  scrap-books,"  said 
Margaret. 

They  talked  a  little  longer  in  a  pleasant  desul 
tory  fashion.  As  the  heat  of  the  day  now  declined, 
Lauder  lounged  off  in  the  direction  of  watering- 
cans,  and  the  two  women,  with  the  attractive  skill 
of  their  sex,  led  Eichard  to  talk  of  himself  and 
his  work,  until  he  felt  as  though  he  had  known 
them  for  a  lifetime.  Accustomed  as  he  was  to 
a  solitary  and  roving  life,  this  little  echo  of  the 
polite  world  that  sounded  about  the  cottage  gar 
den  attracted  and  pleased  him.  He  had  a  natural 
inclination,  never  indulged,  for  the  society  of 
women,  and  he  wooed  them  unconsciously  with  his 
frank  admiration,  his  undisguised  pleasure  in 
their  company,  and  his  desire  that  they  should 


THE   BUILDER  .  89 

like  him.  He  never  doubted  their  interest  in  his 
affairs,  and  consequently  he  interested  them  deeply 
with  his  talk  of  harbor  building,  voyages  of  inspec 
tion,  battles  with  tides  and  storms,  and  descrip 
tions  of  holophotal  and  condensing,  catoptric  and 
dioptric,  fixed,  revolving,  and  group-flashing 
lights.  He  had  a  profound  veneration  and  affec 
tion  for  the  Corporation  of  the  Trinity,  and  a 
keen  appreciation  of  its  picturesque  business.  The 
two  women  were  interested  each  in  her  own  way. 
Lady  Killard  listened  with  the  quick  capability 
of  the  woman  of  the  world  to  grasp  a  smattering 
of  facts  as  to  a  great  national  undertaking;  Mar 
garet  Lauder  delighted  in  the  contrast  of  in 
tensely  arduous  and  practical  labor  with  the 
dreamy  poetry  and  romance  of  those  unsleeping 
eyes  that  open  and  keep  watch  nightly  with  the 
failing  of  the  sun. 

"  The  worst  of  my  work,"  said  Eichard,  "  is  that 
it  cuts  me  off  from  the  world  and  friends.  I 
might  as  well  be  in  New  Zealand  half  the  time 
as  in  England.  Of  course  I'm  always  running  up 
to  London,  but  only  for  a  few  days  at  a  time,  and 
I  assure  you  I  hardly  know  the  faces  at  my  own 
club.  Now  you,  I  suppose  "  —  he  looked  at  Mar 
garet  — "  live  surrounded  by  friends,  and  are 
always  either  in  a  whirl  of  London  gaiety  or  else 
adorning  pleasant  country  parties  ?  " 

She  frowned  ever  so  slightly,  and  arranged  the 
lock  of  her  gold  bangle  before  she  spoke,  screwing 


90  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

her  mouth  up  with  a  severe,  business-like  air  as 
the  clasp  snapped  home. 

"  No,  I  don't  think  I'm  specially  gay.  One  sees 
people  in  London,  of  course,  because  the  people 
one  finds  there  are  its  sole  attraction.  As  for 
country-houses,  they  are  difficult  to  adorn.  I  go 
to  Ireland  in  the  early  spring  because  I  like  hunt 
ing,  but  otherwise  I  am  no  great  prop  of  country- 
houses." 

"And  yet,"  said  Lady  Killard,  "they  are  the 
only  places  where  one  has  a  chance  of  really  know 
ing  one's  friends.  London's  a  drag-net,  I  admit; 
but  the  haul  wants  sifting  and  sorting  continu 
ally." 

"Well,  I  envy  you  both,"  sighed  Eichard. 
"  You  seem  to  be  able  to  make  an  occupation  of 
your  friendships." 

"  They  are  all  the  business  of  life,  Mr.  Grey  " 
—  and  Margaret  looked  at  him  now  with  a  smile. 

"Well,  I've  neglected  my  business,"  said  Eich 
ard,  "  and  I'd  better  attend  to  it  at  once.  Do  you 
recommend  the  cultivation  of  country-house  invi 
tations?" 

"  No,  indeed,  I  don't.  My  real  grievance  against 
the  country-house  atmosphere  is  that  it  makes  you 
think  more  of  your  acquaintances  than  of  your 
friends."  She  paused  and  seemed  to  follow  at 
tentively  with  her  eyes  the  smoke  of  a  steamer 
far  away  on  the  blue  horizon;  and  from  it  her 
gaze  went  on  to  the  white  tower  of  the  lighthouse. 


THE   BUILDER  91 

Then  she  turned  to  him  again  with  a  sudden 
friendly  smile.  "  Besides,  you  have  your  work ! 
I  think  I  envy  you  that.  I  think  if  one  had  work 
like  that  to  do  it  would  leave  no  time  for  friend 
ships,  and  hardly  any  need  for  them." 

"  Work's  a  jealous  mistress,"  said  Eichard,  "  but 
it's  only  a  mistress,  after  all."  He  flushed  a  little 
at  the  turn  his  words  had  taken.  "  I  mean,  it 
leaves  gaps,"  he  added  quickly  — "  intellectual 
gaps,  and  that  sort  of  thing.  But  still,  as  you 
say,  I  don't  think  I'd  change  my  work  for  any 
thing.  I  can  honestly  say  that  I  love  it." 

"  It  must  be  a  great  joy  to  devote  oneself  to 
something  so  impassive  and  cold  as  that,"  she 
said,  looking  again  at  the  lighthouse  —  "a  great 
joy.  I  begin  to  suspect  that  you  are  like  me  — 
you  love  things  that  don't  love  you  in  return.  It's 
a  real  bore  to  have  one's  affection  returned  to  one 
over  the  counter,  so  to  speak;  it  turns  life  into 
a  kind  of  cash  stores,  where  they  give  no  credit." 

"'Ah,  take  the  cash  and  let  the  credit  go/" 
quoted  Eichard,  laughing. 

"  By  all  means,  if  we  are  to  be  governed  by 
Omarisms,"  she  said,  more  gravely;  "but  our 
philosophy  has  surely  got  a  little  beyond  that 
point." 

When  Eichard  walked  away  a  little  later 
through  a  path  of  purple  foxgloves  that  the  orange 
light  of  the  sunset  turned  to  blood-scarlet,  he  car- 


92  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

ried  with  him  a  new  and  grateful  interest.  He 
liked  these  three  people;  he  liked  the  friendly 
and  intimate  atmosphere  that  surrounded  them; 
he  liked  the  sense  of  intellectual  peerage  with 
them,  the  absence  of  sentiment.  He  realized  that 
the  social  side  of  him  was  a  little  starved;  in 
fact  he  realized  almost  for  the  first  time  that  his 
nature  had  such  a  side,  and  wondered  rather 
vaguely  if  he  had  any  more  discoveries  to  make 
about  himself.  On  the  whole  he  thought  not; 
and  thought  so  gladly,  for  he  liked  to  feel  him 
self  full-grown  and  mature  in  the  world,  master 
of  himself,  and  able  to  devote  himself  to  the  work 
that  absorbed  him. 

And  yet,  when  he  reached  his  cabin  and  lit  the 
lamp,  and  saw  his  plain  and  lonely  meal  spread 
for  him,  a  vague  sense  of  incompleteness,  a  timid 
discontent,  stirred  within  him.  He  had  forgotten 
it  an  hour  later,  when  he  sat  absorbed  over  his 
drawing-desk  intent  on  the  working  out  of  a  new 
system  of  reflection,  his  mind  involved  in  intricate 
problems,  his  soul  drawn  deep  into  the  wells  of 
pure  mathematics. 


THE  sea  is  the  great  disturber.  Nothing 
human  can  endure  for  long  unchanged  in 
its  presence;  no  work  of  man's  hands,  or  of  his 
thoughts,  or  even  of  his  character  and  qualities, 
but  must  ultimately  go  down  before  its  eternal 
force;  nothing  of  himself,  flesh  or  spirit,  but 
must  thrill  and  change  with  the  pulses  of  its 
unquiet  heart.  Its  vastness  is  confounding,  and 
towers  over  us,  dwindling  us  to  pin-points  of  un 
importance  ;  beside  its  movements,  calm  and  punc 
tual,  laid  out  in  cycles  of  the  everlasting,  the  most 
majestic  of  our  actions  seem  as  petty  as  the  fret 
ting  trill  of  an  insect's  wing;  <--its  storms  hush 
our  wars  and  revolutions;  our  deepest  silences 
are  audible  in  its  profound  calms;  and  within  its 
age  the  twinkling  moments  of  our  life  pass  and 
disappear  unheeded  into  the  murk  of  eternity. 
Small  wonder  if  the  embodiment  of  world-with- 
out-end  should  prove  no  encourager  of  man's  hap 
piness  or  contentment!  It  is  an  alien  to  all  our 
hopes  and  fears,  a  stranger  to  our  warm  little 
efforts  and  impulses,  forever  unmoved  by  us  and 
our  troubled  consciousness;  and  only  they  who 
93 


94  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

go  down  into  its  cold  heart  and  drown  and  die 
there  can  ever  conquer  its  indifference  or  compel 
its  attention. 

Lauder,  walking  one  Sunday  afternoon  in  June 
on  the  coast-guard  path  thai  skirts  Poltesco  Bay, 
found  Eichard  Grey  sitting  in  a  grassy  niche  of 
the  cliffs  poring,  with  eyes  that  saw  but  hardly 
observed,  upon  the  runes  and  lines  that  the  sub 
marine  drifts  were  drawing  on  the  sea's  smooth 
face.  On  Eichard,  as  on  all  who  dwell  within  its 
influence,  the  great  disturber  was  at  work,  loosen 
ing  his  mind  from  the  anchorage  of  contentment 
that  it  had  found  in  labor,  and  setting  free 
thought  and  wonder  to  float  on  the  wandering 
currents  of  speculation.  As  the  summer  went  on 
and  the  lighthouse  grew  toward  completion  it 
ceased  to  occupy  his  mind,  and  he  was  conscious 
of  a  slow  disturbance  taking  place  in  the  very 
roots  of  his  mental  habit.  He  did  not  know  what 
he  wanted;  but  his  long  talks  with  Lauder  and 
his  pleasant  friendship  with  the  two  ladies  at 
the  Hermitage  had  sown  in  him  a  restlessness  and 
discontent  of  mind  that  was  very  strange  to  him. 
He  used  to  sit  much  by  the  sea  in  these  less  busy 
days;  its  slow  movements,  its  traffic  of  stealthy 
tides  and  flowing  waves  seemed  in  tune  with  a 
mood  in  which  he  was  vaguely  conscious  of  the 
transiency  and  instability  of  material  life.  As 
he  sat  and  watched  the  moving  water  he  had  an 
idle  longing  to  explore  its  spiritual  secrets,  to 


THE  BUILDER  95 

force  from  it  some  vital  disclosure,  and  to  grasp 
and  examine  some  of  those  dream-like,  elusive 
mysteries  on  which  the  fluent  sea  seemed  to  be 
brooding.  With  his  nearer  knowledge  of  the 
Lauders  and  Lady  Killard  a  tinge  of  depression, 
for  which  he  found  it  hard  to  account,  often 
clouded  the  hours  of  solitude  which  he  had 
formerly  found  so  delightful;  and  from  the  cal 
culation  of  weights  and  strains  he  would  find  his 
mind,  as  on  this  afternoon,  turning  to  speculation 
on  greater  and  more  humane  problems.  The 
larger  curiosity  about  life,  delayed  so  long,  was 
stirring  in  him  now;  and  though  he  knew  that 
life  did  not  consist  of  one  world  more  than  an 
other,  and  was  just  as  real  on  his  storm-beaten 
rock  as  in  London  or  Paris  and  the  worlds  of 
which  Lauder  was  fond  of  speaking,  he  began  to 
feel  that  it  held  secrets  which  could  and  ought 
to  be  given  up  to  him. 

He  was  glad  to  see  Lauder,  for  their  friendship 
had  grown  during  the  past  weeks,  and  they  had 
walked  and  talked  much  together.  They  sat  down 
together  on  the  grass,  and  spoke,  as  they  so  often 
did,  of  the  lighthouse,  whose  tower  dominated  the 
view  of  grim  dark  cliffs  and  breeze-ruffled  sea  of 
pure  cobalt. 

"  I  remember  one  of  my  father's  sayings,  writ 
ten  on  the  fly-leaf  of  the  lighthouse  directory," 
said  Eichard.  "  When  Commerce  takes  her  cleans 
ing  plunge  into  the  sea,  we  raise  of  the  dust  she 


96  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

sliaikes  from  her  soiled  locks  towers  to  mark  her 
path  in  the  purer  element." 

"  Yes,  lighthouses  are  of  the  romantic  family," 
said  Lander  —  "  children  of  beauty  and  utility." 

"  They're  practical  enough,  too  —  man's  last 
outposts  on  the  frontiers  of  his  dominion,"  Eich- 
ard  said ;  "  the  last  help  we  land  creatures  can 
give  to  our  fellows  who  take  to  the  uncertain  sea ; 
the  first  welcoming  guides  when  they  come  back. 
They're  so  essentially  earthly,  too,  for  all  we  plant 
them  in  the  sea !  Stone  from  inland  quarries, 
oak  and  pine  from  the  forest,  metal  from  depths 
where  sound  or  smell  of  the  sea  has  never  reached 
—  it  seems  almost  impudent  to  plant  things  like 
that  in  the  very  midst  of  waves." 

Lander  leaned  back  and  looked  at  the  white 
tower  with  half-closed  eyes.  "  I  like  to  think  of 
this  new  neighbor  of  yours,  joining  the  great 
company  of  lights  —  this  youngster  of  the  Trinity, 
a  baby  yet,  his  stone  sides  hardly  out  of  their 
swaddling  of  scaffold !  I  went  down  at  low  water 
this  morning  and  sat  alone  in  the  lantern;  and 
from  his  crystal  eye,  vacant  still  though  it  is, 
and  blind  as  an  uncut  gem,  I  looked  out  across 
the  blue  floor  of  the  Atlantic  and  tried  to  read 
his  destiny.  All  this  summer  is  his  childhood, 
you  and  Macneil  and  the  others  who  reared  him 
still  hovering  anxiously  about  him,  perfecting  his 
equipment,  and  watching  his  resistance  to  the 
weather  while  as  yet  he  performs  no  service.  He 


THE  BUILDER  97 

was  whistling  a  little  tune  in  the  wind,  and  in  the 
strong  sunshine  storing  up  energy,  I  told  myself, 
for  the  long  dark  nights  he  will  have  to  keep  watch 
when  his  nurses  are  all  dead  and  buried.  Well 
for  him,  when  he  comes  to  wrestle  with  the  winter 
gales,  that  neither  toil  nor  time  were  grudged  in 
his  making ! " 

"  I  see  you  think  of  him  as  I  do/'  said  Eichard, 
"  as  a  person ;  indeed  I'm  tempted  to  be  senti 
mental  about  him  sometimes.  But  oh,  I  have  at 
odd  moments  a  longing  for  him  to  be  immortal! 
I  can't  think  that  tower  will  ever  perish  while  the 
rock  lasts." 

"  You  builders  are  all  the  same,"  said  Lauder. 
"  Look  at  that  fortress  wall ;  "  and  he  pointed  to  a 
ruined  castle  not  far  from  the  edge  of  the  cliff, 
said  to  have  been  the  house  of  a  Cornish  king, 
"  twenty-five  feet  thick,  ruined  half  a  dozen  times, 
and  continually  rebuilt  by  the  mason,  eternally 
undaunted  by  the  ruins  of  masonry!  Somewhere 
in  a  distant  century  I  seem  to  see  another  archi 
tect  at  work  on  his  plans,  or  standing  on  that 
very  rampart  directing  the  masons.  '  My  work 
will  last,'  he  says.  And  then  —  a  little  falling 
of  the  rain,  a  little  blowing  of  the  wind,  a  little 
lapse  of  years  and  centuries,  and  another  crafts 
man,  looking  at  the  rampart,  purses  his  lips  and 
speaks  of  the  heavy  cost  of  strengthening  old 
rotten  walls.  A  little  disturbance  of  soil,  and  down 
comes  the  whole  thing  like  a  child's  rickle  of 


98  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

bricks;  and  man,  with  the  patience  of  an  ant, 
turns  to  and  builds  it  again!  And  like  his  an 
cestor  he  says,  '  This  time  it  will  last.'  " 

"  It's  just  possible,"  said  Eichard,  smiling, 
"  we  may  have  learned  the  secret.  It  wouldn't 
be  human  to  believe  otherwise ;  and  anyway,  what 
does  it  matter  ?  It  is  more  to  the  point  that  men 
should  have  been  working  with  their  hands  for 
the  common  benefit  on  that  wave-beaten  fragment 
of  rock  —  more  to  the  point  that  the  work  should 
be  of  that  patient,  simple  kind  —  laying  one  stone 
on  another  and  placing  courses  of  masonry  on  a 
true  and  level  bed  —  that  calls  for  all  the  most 
honest  qualities  of  human  labor.  Day  in,  day  out, 
through  the  months  and  years  that  tower  has 
been  in  building,  there  has  been  just  the  one 
kind  of  patient  labor ;  nothing  complex  or  subtle ; 
everything  depending  on  sheer  honesty  at  every 
stage.  The  man  who  mixes  the  mortar,  the  man 
who  lays  the  granite,  the  man  who  saws,  digs, 
hews,  or  harles  —  upon  each  and  all  of  them  the 
honesty  of  the  work  depends.  As  the  dad  used 
to  say:  You  may  He  in  your  throat,  and  no  one 
be  the  worse  of  it;  to  lie  with  the  hands  is  to 
add  a  stone  to  the  fabric  of  the  world's  dis 
grace" 

They  talked  a  little  longer  of  the  work,  and 
then  turned  to  making  plans  for  the  immediate 
future.  Eichard  had  to  go  to  Paris,  where  the 
lamp  and  lenses  were  being  made,  to  see  them 


THE  BUILDER  99 

before  they  were  shipped  off  to  the  lighthouse. 
Lauder  learned  from  him  that  he  did  not  know 
Paris  well;  and  they  agreed  to  go  together,  and 
spend  a  few  days  after  Richard's  business  was 
finished.  They  expected  to  start  almost  imme 
diately,  and  to  be  away  about  a  week. 

"  The  light  is  to  be  exhibited  in  October,  I 
hear,"  said  Richard,  as  they  walked  slowly  toward 
the  Hermitage.  "After  that  —  what,  I  wonder? 
Another  job  for  me,  I  hope,  although  it'll  be  too 
much  to  hope  for  a  rock  light.  But  I'd  love  to 
build  a  Skerryvore  or  a  Wolf ! " 

"  If  you  were  a  monk,  Richard,  you'd  be  a  Fran 
ciscan.  'What  have  I  done? ''will  be  your  death 
bed  preoccupation." 

"Not  a  bad  one,  provided  one  has  an  answer! 
You'd  be  a  Trappist,  I  suppose,  and  say:  'What 
have  I  been,  and  how  have  I  made  my  soul?' 
And  yet  the  gift  of  preaching  is  certainly  yours 
rather  than  mine !  " 

"  I  preach  to  myself,"  said  Lauder,  smiling,  as 
they  turned  in  at  the  gate. 

They  had  promised  to  walk  with  the  ladies  to 
Strade  church  —  why,  no  one  exactly  knew,  unless 
it  were  for  the  sake  of  the  walk  back  in  the  sunset ; 
and  Lady  Killard  had  an  idea  that  it  was  neces 
sary  to  keep  the  vicar  in  countenance  at  least 
once  during  her  residence. 

"  It  will  be  rather  interesting,"  said  Richard  to 


100  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

Margaret,  as  they  set  off  in  front  of  the  others 
across  the  fields.  "  I  haven't  been  to  church  for 
years." 

"  Four  unbelievers !  I  suppose  we  are  a  typical 
company  of  churchgoers/'  she  said;  "and  John 
the  only  convinced  unbeliever  of  us  all !  " 

"  What  am  I  ?  "  asked  Eichard,  laughing. 

"  I  should  call  you  a  regretful  unbeliever,"  she 
replied ;  "  and  Jane  —  oh,  Jane  is  a  timid  un 
believer." 

"And  you?" 

"  I'm  only  a  temporary  unbeliever,  I  think.  I 
can't  help  an  uncomfortable  feeling  that  there 
may  be  something  in  it  all  the  time ! " 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Eichard,  serenely,  "  but  it's 
a  mistake.  There  is  nothing  in  it  but  a  depress 
ing  and  rather  pathetic  demonstration  of  human 
weakness  and  cowardice  —  and  of  the  results  of 
unhappiness,  I  suppose.  It  would  be  bad  enough 
if  people  really  believed  in  it  all;  but  they  don't. 
Its  externals  seem  to  have  a  fatal  attraction  for 
discontented  women ;  but  that's  only  because  part 
of  it  is  human  and  emotional." 

"Well,  that's  surely  a  good  thing,  Mr.  Grey? 
I  begin  to  believe  in  emotion;  it's  like  rain  on 
the  soil,  that  keeps  it  soft  and  ready." 

Eichard,  who  was  not  on  the  lookout  for  emo 
tional  leads,  continued  a  purely  academic  discus 
sion.  "  Of  course,  as  a  preparation  emotion  is 
invaluable  —  provided  it's  the  real  thing,  and  not 


THE   BUILDER  101 

an  artificial  substitute !  And  one  must  have  some 
thing  to  prepare  for;  you  can't  be  eternally  get 
ting  ready.  And  then  the  ordinary  English  par 
son  is  not  exactly  an  inspirer  of  religion.  I  won 
der  why  one  dislikes  them  as  a  class." 

"Do  you?  I  don't  think  I  do.  I  find  them 
often  quite  sound.  Look  at  Mr.  Brereton  here; 
no  one  can  help  liking  him." 

"  I  know  that,"  said  Eichard ;  "  but  it's  an 
impossible  profession  all  the  same.  They  are  sell 
ing  at  second-hand  what  every  one  ought  to 
possess  new  for  himself  —  and  selling  it  at  a 
profit ! " 

"  Now  you're  talking  like  John,"  said  Margaret, 
smiling;  "and  do  you  know,  I  think  I  like  your 
own  talk  much  better." 

Their  walk  was  along  the  cliffs,  through  the 
little  hamlet,  and  across  meadow  paths  to  where 
the  church  stood  huddled  together  on  the  rolling 
land,  like  a  small  gray  snail.  All  around  them  the 
air  was  as  salt  as  on  a  ship,  and  across  ploughed 
fields  or  meadows  there  were  everywhere  little 
vistas  closed  by  the  bright  sea.  Margaret  Lauder 
was  enveloped  in  the  wonderful  charm  of  a  well- 
dressed  woman  —  a  creature  of  beauty  and  mys 
tery,  remote  now  in  Richard's  eyes,  with  her  laces 
and  daintinesses,  her  drooping  black  hat,  her 
charming  hands  and  feet  perfectly  attired.  Her 
eyes  seemed  brighter,  her  skin  finer,  herself  trans 
figured,  body  and  soul,  by  the  simple  process  of 


102  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

taking  off  one  set  of  clothes  and  putting  on  an 
other.  As  she  walked  beside  him,  dispensing  her 
grave  smiles  and  kindnesses  of  speech,  Richard 
realized  that  he  liked  her  very  much,  and  won 
dered,  and  perhaps  regretted,  that  he  did  not  like 
her  more.  They  spoke  of  his  departure  in  the 
coming  week;  to  him  it  seemed  a  long  way  to 
Paris  from  this  world  of  sea  labor  and  garden  rest. 
Margaret  said  she  was  glad  John  was  going  with 
him.  "  You  won't  feel  the  separation  from  your 
dear  lighthouse  so  much/'  she  added,  laughing. 

Eichard's  next  remark  seemed  to  have  no  con 
nection  with  their  conversation.  "  Will  you  be 
here  until  October  ?  "  he  asked.  "  I  should  like 
you  to  be  here  when  the  light  is  shown  for  the 
first  time." 

"  I  hope  so,"  she  answered.  "  Indeed,  Mr.  Grey, 
I  should  hate  to  miss  it ;  I  feel  as  if  we  had  some 
thing  to  do  with  the  lighthouse ;  we  almost  regard 
it  as  one  of  our  Hermitage  family.  Tell  me,"  she 
added,  "  will  you  be  glad  when  it's  finished  ?  " 

"  Do  you  know,  I  think  I  will,  although  I  never 
thought  I  should  be.  But  somehow  I  want  to 
leave  work  on  one  side  for  a  little.  I'm  a  little 
jealous  of  it.  While  I'm  at  it,  it  must  come  first, 
and  must  be  uppermost;  and  yet  I  want  to  do 
other  things  —  perhaps  to  build  other  things. 
After  all,  one  has  one's  life  to  build." 

"  I  shouldn't  throw  up  your  work  for  that  rea 
son.  Do  you  think  one  is  ever  building  oneself 


THE  BUILDER  103 

so  much  as  when  one  is  building  something  else? 
Ah,"  she  went  on,  shaking  her  head  and  smiling, 
"John  has  been  talking  to  you!  I  know  John's 
attractive  fallacies,  but  I  don't  approve  of  them. 
He  doesn't  build  anything,  I'm  afraid;  he's  al 
ways  making  corner-stones  for  a  house  that  will 
never  be  built  at  all ! " 

"  Perhaps  they  are  only  pierres  perdues,"  said 
Eichard,  smiling,  and  yet  conscious  that  their  con 
versation  was  taking  an  attractively  symbolic  turn, 
and  that  their  words  had  a  double  message.  "  You 
know,  the  stones  I  told  you  about  that  we  sink 
down  into  the  sea  when  we  are  going  to  build  a 
groin  or  a  pier.  One  must  have  a  foundation, 
you  see;  and  who  knows  what  a  splendid  edifice 
may  not  rise  on  John's  foundations?  Personally, 
I  feel  I  owe  him  a  great  deal.  We  all  have  to 
build;  and  I  suppose  it  rests  with  ourselves 
whether  we  build  a  house  of  cards  or  a  castle." 

Margaret  looked  at  him,  and  then  before  her  at 
the  setting  sun.  "  And  apart  from  what  one 
builds,  it  matters  whether  one  builds  on  sand  or 
rock,  doesn't  it  ?  "  she  said. 

"  That's  where  John  comes  in  with  his  solid 
foundations,"  Eichard  said,  and  they  both  laughed, 
and  then  fell  silent.  They  did  not  speak  again 
until  they  were  joined  at  the  church  door  by 
Lauder  and  Lady  Killard;  and  then  Margaret 
put  her  hand  on  her  brother's  arm. 


104  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

"  You  dear  quarrier  of  pierres  perdues,"  she 
said;  and  neither  she  nor  Kichard  would  explain 
the  allusion.  Kichard  was  not  sure  that  he  under 
stood  it  himself. 


VI 


passed  into  the  gloom  of  the  little 
JL  church  just  as  the  service  was  beginning; 
and  as  they  stood  during  the  Exhortation  they 
had  a  full  view  of  the  small  congregation.  A 
sprinkling  of  girls  gave  it  youth;  the  rest  of  the 
fifty  people  were  principally  middle-aged,  sad- 
faced  women,  with  a  few  bent  and  gnarled  old 
people,  and  a  few  youths  and  maidens  in  the  pride 
of  life.  The  surroundings  were  unusual  to  Eich- 
ard,  and,  in  his  sensitive  condition,  touched  him 
strangely.  The  rough  old  Norman  church,  so 
long  beaten  upon  by  the  shaking  gales  of  that 
wild  place,  seemed  well  suited  with  its  congrega 
tion  of  simple,  hard-living  villagers  in  an  isolated 
country;  and  the  hearty  singing,  the  good  manly 
voice  of  the  parson,  the  sense  of  companionship, 
the  cross  and  flowers  on  the  altar,  the  pervading 
tones  of  the  organ,  and  the  glimpse  afforded 
through  the  open  door  of  glass-covered  graves,  and 
the  blue  sea  beyond  them,  built  up  an  effect  that  al 
most  startled  Eichard  by  its  power  to  interest  him. 
The  beautiful  words  of  the  evening  office  came 
back  to  him  with  a  new  charm  and  hypnotism. 
106 


106  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

The  moment  he  tried  to  think  of  their  meaning 
applied  definitely  and  literally  to  the  people  there 
in  the  church,  the  situation  seemed  grotesque  and 
absurd;  but  when  he  ceased  to  listen  in  detail, 
but  let  the  large  sound  of  the  whole  drift  in  upon 
his  ears,  it  suddenly  became  all  clear  and  reason 
able.  The  two  rows  of  little  boys  in  the  chancel, 
singing  breathlessly  at  a  psalm  chopped  into  very 
short  lengths  by  a  chant  too  high  for  their  voices, 
were  not  inspiring  ministers  of  praise;  yet  it  was 
enough  to  catch  but  one  verse  —  When  Thou  hid- 
est  Thy  face  they  are  troubled:  when  Thou  takest 
away  their  breath  they  die,  and  are  turned  again 
to  their  dust  —  for  all  color  and  music  and  mean 
ing  to  leap  back  into  the  picture. 

As  the  service  went  on  Eichard  became  conscious 
of  two  influences  pervading  the  little  church.  One 
was  a  sort  of  human  current  that  seemed  to  be 
established  by  the  presence  of  so  many  people  near 
each  other.  Standing  up  during  the  hymns  Eich 
ard  was  thus  acutely  conscious  of  all  the  people 
around  him,  and  especially  of  Margaret  Lauder, 
whose  charm  was  presented  in  a  new  light  of  de 
votional  gravity.  But  more  definite  even  than  this 
atmosphere  of  solemn  conviviality  was  another  in 
fluence,  purely  feminine,  that  suddenly  became 
embodied  for  Eichard  in  the  person  of  a  woman 
seated  a  few  pews  in  front  of  him.  She  was  not 
very  young,  and  as  he  only  had  a  back  view  of 
her  he  had  no  idea  of  what  her  face  was  like ;  but 


THE   BUILDER  107 

something  in  the  shape  of  her  hat,  in  the  incli 
nation  of  her  head,  in  the  fall  of  her  hair  on  her 
neck,  in  the  rather  graceful  and  slow  movements 
of  her  slim  figure,  expressed  a  personality  that 
seemed  to  be  the  embodiment  of  this  Sunday  eve 
ning  emotion.  She  was  both  demure  and  devout, 
and  her  inclinations  and  genuflexions  proclaimed 
her  a  leader  rather  than  a  follower  of  ritual. 
Eichard  found  himself  watching  her  at  any  ap 
proach  of  the  Holy  Name,  and  taking  a  strange 
delight  in  the  slow  fal]  and  rise  of  her  figure. 
He  did  not  wish  to  see  her  face:  his  interest  in 
her  was  impersonal;  but  it  was  profound  out  of 
all  proportion  to  the  circumstances.  He  observed, 
moreover,  that  he  was  not  alone  in  his  sensations. 
As  the  sermon  began  the  congregation  settled  down 
as  comfortably  as  possible  in  the  hard  pews,  and 
seemed  deliberately  to  divide  its  attention.  One- 
half  was  given  to  the  tanned,  capable  face  and 
honest  brown  eyes  of  the  parson  as  he  made  his 
simple  proposals  for  the  conduct  of  life,  and  his 
earnest  exhortations  to  honesty  and  piety,  in  order 
that  all  might  meet  in  heaven  at  last;  the  other 
half  was  obviously  devoted  to  human  speculation. 
Young  men  fixed  their  eyes,  each  on  some  young 
woman;  girls  drew  together  with  arms  interlaced 
and  their  thoughts  floating  in  the  poetic  romance 
of  virgin  friendships;  children  exchanged  sweets, 
or  snuggled  up  against  their  mothers'  arms;  and 
here  and  there  a  husband  and  wife  put  out  a  hand 


108  THE   SANDS    OF   PLEASURE 

to  one  another,  and  shared  wordless  anxieties  or 
memories.  The  monotone  of  the  exhorting  voice, 
the  mellow  dying  sunshine  that  flooded  the  build 
ing,  the  hard  wholesome  Cornish  faces,  the  Sunday 
dresses  and  hats  with  their  bits  of  bravery,  the 
flowers,  jessamine,  carnations,  or  roses,  taken  from 
under  the  hot  walls  of  cottage  gardens  —  how  elo 
quent  they  all  were,  with  a  pathetic  and  heart 
breaking  eloquence,  of  the  smallness,  the  helpless 
ness,  the  profound  melancholy  of  human  destiny ! 
Like  cattle  huddling  together  in  a  storm,  these 
toilers  gathered  together  thus  at  sundown,  nomi 
nally  to  praise  God,  but  really  to  hearten  them 
selves  with  company,  to  say  a  few  incantations,  to 
receive  a  little  human  comfort  against  the  coming 
night,  and  the  longer  night  of  death  of  which  our 
solar  night  is  the  eternal  monitor.  .  .  . 

The  voice  of  the  parson  broke  in  on  Eichard's 
hearing.  "  And  lastly,  God  gives  us  all  a  promise 
of  rest  when  this  life  is  over.  We  all  know  what 
it  is  to  have  had  a  hard  day,  with  the  nets  per 
haps  or  ploughing  a  stiff  bit  of  land;  well,  what 
is  it  that  helps  us  to  get  through  that  day?  Isn't 
it  the  knowledge  that  it  can  only  last  a  certain 
time,  and  that  at  the  end  of  it  we  are  going  to 
food  at  the  fireside,  and  comfort  and  sleep?  If 
there  were  to  be  no  sleep  we  couldn't  go  on;  if 
our  toil  were  never  to  come  to  an  end  we  shouldn't 
be  able  to  do  anything.  But  God  means  us  to 
work,  and  He  means  us  to  live;  and  so  Christ 


THE  BUILDER  109 

gave  to  His  people  this  promise,  '  I  go  to  prepare 
a  place  for  you ; '  and  that,  with  the  other  prom 
ise,  '  There  remaineth  a  rest  for  the  people  of 
God,'  is  an  assurance  that  God  will  not  ask  of  us 
more  than  we  can  do,  and  that  when  our  work 
is  over  He  will  give  us  rest.  But  it  is  to  His  own 
people  only  that  He  promises  that  rest.  Surely, 
then,  we  should  try  to  earn  it,  by  serving  Him 
and  loving  Him  and  obeying  Him;  surely  we 
should  try  to  do  His  work  on  earth,  if  we  would 
earn  His  reward  in  heaven;  so  that  when  all  our 
toils  and  sorrows  are  over  we  may  be  with  Him  in 
that  rest,  and  serve  Him  in  everlasting  joy  here 
after." 

Of  course !  It  was  all  so  kindly,  so  dead  simple, 
such  a  pretty  dream,  such  a  gross  unreality !  The 
lulling  hypnotism  of  such  words  acted  like  a  sweet 
drug  on  the  congregation,  soothing  and  comfort 
ing  their  hearts.  God  only  knows,  thought  Rich 
ard,  perhaps  they  need  drugs ! 

But  it  was  the  last  hymn,  sung  under  shadow 
of  the  imminent  night,  that  completed  the  anni 
hilation  of  his  cold  and  detached  criticism  of 
other  people's  religion.  Rested  by  the  sermon, 
pleased  with  a  familiar  tune,  the  little  congre 
gation  rolled  out  the  first  verse: 

"  Fight  the  good  fight  with  all  thy  might, 
Christ  is  thy  strength,  and  Christ  thy  right; 
Lay  hold  on  life,  and  it  shall  be 
Thy  joy  and  crown  eternally." 


110  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

Even  John  Lauder  was  singing  by  the  third 
line.  He  did  not  know  what  particular  good 
fight  he  had  to  fight,  but  the  sentiment  was  a 
sound  one ;  and  "  lay  hold  on  life  "  was  simply 
magnificent,  if  they  had  only  meant  it !  The  fine 
processional  tread  of  the  tune  caught  up  even  un 
wonted  voices  to  join  in  it.  The  first  verse  thus 
whipped  in  the  congregational  stragglers,  and  at 
tracted  the  very  young,  who  are  ashamed  to  sing 
in  church,  to  raise  a  sheepish  note. 

"  Run  the  straight  race  through  God's  good  grace, 
Lift  up  thine  eyes,  and  seek  His  face  ; 
Life  with  its  way  before  us  lies, 
Christ  is  the  path  and  Christ  the  prize." 

The  second  verse  established  the  odd  collection 
of  voices  as  a  coherent  whole,  and  the  tune 
marched  proudly  along.  Margaret  was  singing, 
and  Lady  Killard  also,  in  a  tender  soprano  that 
made  the  devotional  words  like  a  caress;  the  par 
son  was  singing,  and  looking  around  his  little 
flock  in  a  sort  of  mothering  way,  to  see  who  was 
there  and  who  was  absent. 

"  Cast  care  aside,  lean  on  thy  Guide  ; 
His  boundless  mercy  will  provide  ; 
Trust,  and  thy  trusting  soul  shall  prove 
Christ  is  its  life  and  Christ  its  love." 

Eichard  found  himself  drawn  into  the  sweeping 
flood  of  sound;  he  felt  the  whole  building  thrill 
ing  with  that  disturbance,  part  sensuous,  part 


THE   BUILDER  111 

poetic,  part  of  that  hunger  of  the  mind  and  heart 
for  things  which  shall  symbolize  the  eternal,  which 
is  often  called  religion.  The  congregation  gath 
ered  itself  together  for  the  last  verse;  the  organ 
ist  drew  out  all  the  stops  on  his  little  instrument ; 
every  one  sang  his  heartiest;  and,  supported  on 
the  deep  bass  of  the  pedal  pipes,  the  flood  of  emo 
tional  sound  swept  through  the  church,  through 
the  nerves  of  every  singer,  through  the  open  door 
into  the  sunset  fields. 

"  Faint  not  nor  fear,  His  arms  are  near, 
He  changeth  not,  and  thou  art  dear ; 
Only  believe,  and  thou  shall  see 
That  Christ  is  all  in  all  to  thee." 

In  the  prayers  and  silences  that  followed,  and 
in  their  quiet  walk  home  afterward,  Eichard 
found  these  words  echoing  in  his  mind,  "  He 
changeth  not ! "  What  was  there  in  the  mere 
sound  of  the  words  that  caught  at  his  heart?  He 
had  been  conscious  when  singing  that  line  of  a 
vague  desire  to  apply  it  humanly;  and  he  had 
caught  Lander's  glance  quite  unconsciously  rest 
ing  on  Lady  Killard  at  the  words  "  and  thou  art 
dear,"  and  had  wished  that  he  had  some  one  with 
whom  he  could  share  his  emotion.  .  .  .  The 
whole  thing  disturbed  him  strangely;  it  left  him 
very  silent,  but  made  him  hover  about  his  friends 
as  though  he  were  never  going  to  see  them  again. 
He  was  reluctant  to  leave  them;  and  when  he 


112  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

said  good  night  there  was  a  weight  upon  his 
heart,  although  he  could  not  have  told  why.  He 
had  had  no  special  conversation  with  Margaret 
since  they  came  out  of  church;  it  seemed  as  if 
she  wished  to  keep  with  the  others. 

Lady  Killard  watched  his  figure  disappearing 
in  the  darkness  and  turned  to  Lauder. 

"  You  must  take  care  of  him,  dear  John,"  she 
said.  "  I  don't  know  what  there  is  about  him,  but 
he  makes  one  very  fond  of  him  and  sorry  at  the 
same  time.  I'm  glad  he's  going  with  you  to 
Paris." 


BOOK  II 
THE  HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS 


RICHAED'S  knowledge  of  Paris  was  that  of 
the  ordinary  passenger;  it  consisted  for 
him.  of  an  hotel,  a  railway  station,  the  Champs 
Elysees,  the  Eue  de  Eivoli,  the  Louvre,  the  Lux 
embourg,  and  an  occasional  meal  amid  the  ama 
teur  Bohemianism  of  the  Latin  Quarter.  Lauder's 
Parisian  knowledge  surprised  you  at  first  by  its 
blanks;  he  knew  none  of  the  sights,  he  had  never 
been  to  Versailles,  he  hated  the  Eue  de  Eivoli  and 
all  its  works  with  an  enthusiasm  of  hatred  that 
was  only  equalled  by  his  passionate  love  for  Mont- 
inartre  —  that  Montmartre  which  the  English  or 
American  visitor  does  not  know  and  is  seldom 
shown;  but  the  two  Parisian  worlds  of  art  and 
pleasure,  studios,  galleries,  and  restaurants,  he 
knew  with  the  intimate  knowledge  of  the  painter 
who  has  turned  man  of  the  world.  In  both  these 
scenes  of  life  his  interest  was  equally  real;  but 
whereas  he  was  a  practitioner  in  painting,  and 
had  the  craftsman's  serious  and  intolerant  stand 
ard,  he  was  an  amateur  of  pleasure.  He  loved 
to  look  upon  that  hurrying  tide,  so  often  muddy, 
and  sometimes  surprisingly  bright,  that  flows 
115 


116  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

through  the  European  capitals;  loved  to  study 
with  an  absorbed  fascination  the  struggle,  the 
labor,  the  painful  toil  of  men  to  purchase  joy  in 
those  gay  markets;  he  loved  most  of  all  to  be 
intimate  with  the  sources  and  changes  of  the 
river  of  pleasure,  and  to  trace  in  its  deep  and 
intricate  channels  those  human  tides  that  con 
nect  it  with  our  common  life  and  keep  it,  in  spite 
of  its  terrible  burden  of  moral  sewerage,  harmless 
to  the  sound  of  head  and  heart.  And  in  the  great 
exchanges  of  vice  and  folly,  it  was  the  sellers  far 
more  than  the  buyers  that  interested  him.  The 
buyers,  whether  they  were  gambling  at  Monte 
Carlo,  stuffing  themselves  in  expensive  restau 
rants,  or  lavishing  their  money  on  momentary 
and  unsatisfactory  love,  were  as  a  rule  more  gro 
tesque  than  pathetic  in  his  eyes;  he  had  no  pity 
for  their  folly  and  no  mercy  on  their  stupidity. 
But  the  other  side  —  the  world  of  sad-faced  crou 
piers,,  of  sedulous  mattres  d'Jiotel,  of  demi-mon- 
daines  and  actresses  —  he  loved  it  whole-heartedly. 
He  was  known  in  that  world  throughout  Europe; 
and  although  he  was  neither  rich  nor  extravagant 
but  merely  generous,  he  was  welcomed  with  open 
arms  and  honest  affection  in  many  a  place  where 
a  welcome  would  not  be  thought  highly  of  by  the 
orderly  world.  He  had  a  touch  that  opened  all 
doors  of  a  certain  kind  to  him;  upon  his  entry 
into  famous  restaurants  waiters  would  be  sent 
flying,  the  best  table  prepared,  the  choicest  flowers 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS          117 

produced,  the  secrets  of  the  cellar  revealed,  the 
chef  advised,  and  the  whole  costly  machinery 
given  an  extra  spin  in  order  that  he  might  have 
his  cutlet,  while  the  American  millionaire  was 
kept  waiting  to  order  his  nine  courses.  The  patron 
always  had  a  word  for  him,  the  chef's  compli 
ments  would  be  sent  up,  and  while  he  smoked  a 
cigarette  the  exquisite  and  debonair  chief  of  the 
maitres  d'Tiotel  would  be  in  deep  converse  with 
him  —  not  as  to  the  year  of  the  Gorton,  but  as 
to  his  difficulties  with  his  family  and  his  hopes 
for  the  little  farm  he  meant  tft  QUy  when  he 
retired. 

And  so  also  in  the  great  shifting  banquet  of 
beauty  and  pleasure  he  was  known  and  liked  and 
respected,  if  not  loved;  for  the  true  coin  of  love 
is  in  that  world  of  counters  held  far  more  dearly 
than  we  hold  it,  and  its  liking  is  worth  having. 
Lauder  had  far  too  clear  a  brain  and  too  much 
intellectual  fearlessness  to  be  shocked  or  dismayed 
by  the  simple  fact  that  such  a  world  and  such 
a  profession  existed:  he  had,  on  the  contrary,  an 
Alexandrian  respect  for  it,  when.it  was  cleanly 
and  decently  conducted;  and  he  liked  to  watch 
the  eternal  struggle  between  it  and  society.  He 
looked  upon  it  as  a  fair  fight.  He  knew  that  the 
social  attitude  toward  so-called  vice  was  the  right 
and  only  possible  one,  and  if  society  could  stamp 
it  out,  that  it  would  be  right  to  stamp  it  out.  But 
he  also  recognized  in  it  a  grim  fact  of  life,  which 


118  THE   SANDS    OF   PLEASURE 

society  dare  not  recognize,  but  which  nevertheless 
sought  for  and  held  its  footing  in  the  world.  As 
for  the  women  of  the  demi-monde,  he  made  no 
secret  of  the  fact  that  he  liked  them,  those  at  any 
rate  who  had  a  genius  for  their  calling  and  a 
sense  of  dignity  and  behavior  in  it;  and  he  es 
teemed  them  far  more  highly  than  actresses  who 
took  their  art  seriously.  The  moral  actress,  he 
used  to  say,  was  the  most  pitiable  and  indecent 
figure  in  the  world.  Richard  Grey  and  he  had 
a  long  argument  on  this  subject,  in  which  the 
fight  was  for  an  ideal  of  decency.  They  were 
walking  the  deck  of  the  Calais  boat,  and  the  sub 
ject  had  been  started  by  the  sight  of  a  rather 
well-known  actress  established  on  deck-chairs  with 
her  husband  and  three  children. 

"  It's  all  very  well,  Lauder,"  said  Richard,  "  I 
haven't  any  false  ideas  about  virtue  and  vice 
being  anything  to  do  with  celibacy  or  monogamy; 
but  I  don't  see  how  a  woman  can  be  less  decent 
because  she  sticks  to  her  husband." 

"  It's  not  indecent  that  she  should  stick  to  her 
husband;  but  it  is  improper  that  she  should 
parade  a  quality  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  her 
profession.  Besides,  if  she  is  a  good  mother  and 
a  true  wife,  she's  no  good  as  an  actress;  and  of 
course  she  isn't." 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  said  Richard ;  "  this  is  the 
old  cry  —  that  no  actress  can  be  a  pure  woman !  " 

"  It  isn't  that  an  actress  can't  be  a  pure  woman ; 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         119 

it  is  that  she  has  no  business  to  be ;  or  if  she  has 
a  weak  tendency  toward  moral  virtue,  she  ought 
to  conceal  it  like  a  vice.  Her  acting  ought  to 
come  to  her  rescue;  and  if  it  doesn't  she  ought 
to  choose  another  profession." 

"That's  all  right/'  said  Eichard;  "but  an 
actress  is  only  a  channel,  an  agent.  I  hate  all 
their  talk  about  actors  '  creating '  characters. 
They  don't  —  they  purvey  them.  Therefore,  when 
they  aren't  being  galvanized  into  action,  they 
ought  to  be  allowed  to  relapse  if  they  like  —  even 
if  their  amusement  take  the  form  of  domestic 
virtue." 

"  Oh,  well,  if  you're  going  to  allow  domestic 
virtue  to  become  the  relaxation  of  actresses,  you 
will  not  only  spoil  the  pleasures  of  a  great  many 
worthy,  respectable  people,  but  you'll  make  Do 
mestic  Virtue  take  the  place  of  the  domestic  vir 
tues,  which  other  people  cultivate  with  some 
knowledge  and  finesse." 

"  I  see,"  replied  Eichard,  "  what  you  are  worry 
ing  about  is  not  that  they  are  domestic,  but  that 
they  are  actresses,  and  therefore  the  property  of 
the  public;  and  that  with  their  beastly  instinct 
for  publicity  they  foist  on  the  public  photographs 
of  themselves  and  their  children.  And  of  course 
no  one  is  interested  in  their  children,  because  one 
has  no  reasonable  grounds  for  supposing  that 
their  children  will  be  better  actors  than  they  are 


120  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

—  which,  I  suppose,  is  the  only  reason  why  they 
should  be  allowed  to  marry." 

Cape  Grisnez  loomed  out  on  the  horizon,  a  gray 
blur  between  sea  and  sky.  Lauder  knitted  his 
brows  and  smiled  as  he  gazed  at  the  spreading 
shores  of  France. 

"  Ah,  that's  the  country  where  they  don't  per 
mit  any  bungling  of  that  sort.  Pleasure  is  the 
one  thing  that  the  French  take  seriously;  and 
their  machinery  for  the  flattering  of  the  five  senses 
is  as  perfect  as  their  clever  brains  can  make  it. 
They  recognize  that  the  stage  is  like  the  Church; 
and  therefore  their  actors  are  nominally  celibate, 
and  have  to  attend  to  business  all  the  time.  You 
don't  catch  a  French  actress,  any  more  than  a 
French  abbe,  parading  a  family.  They  take  them 
selves  seriously." 

"  Well,"  said  Eichard,  "  perhaps  you're  right ; 
but  what  has  all  that  to  do  with  an  ideal  of 
decency  ?  " 

"Well,  we're  getting  on;  we're  getting  toward 
it.  We  have  established  anyhow  that  decency,  like 
truth,  is  not  an  absolute  but  a  relative  thing." 

"  But  the  truthful  man  doesn't  habitually 
lie." 

"  No,  and  a  decent  woman  doesn't  habitually 
act,  although  all  women  act  when  they  can,  and 
most  men  tell  lies  when  they  must.  It  is  the 
professional  actor  and  the  habitual  liar  who  ought 
not  to  pretend  to  decency.  Don't  you  think  that 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         121 

the  art  of  decency  ought  to  be  cultivated  by  people 
who  are  intellectually  fit  for  it  ?  " 

Kichard  smiled.  "  I  admit  it  is  a  delicate  and 
patient  art." 

"  Exactly,  dear  Eichard ;  and  how  can  it  be 
rightly  practised  by  people  who  habitually  ramp 
across  a  lighted  stage,  and  try  to  cram  the  whole 
of  life  into  three  hours,  with  music  in  between? 
Why,  even  nature  rebuffs  them ;  look  there !  " 

A  wave  broke  over  the  steamer's  shoulder,  and 
cast  a  glittering  cascade  of  spray  over  the  gaudily 
dressed  family  collected  so  conspicuously  on  deck. 
They  emerged  draggled,  and  giving  vent  to 
plaintive  exaggerated  cries. 

"  Nature's  always  coming  to  the  rescue  of  your 
arguments,"  said  Eichard,  as  the  two  men  turned 
away  to  hide  their  smiles.  The  sight  of  the  Calais 
breakwater  reminded  him  suddenly  of  his  tall 
white  tower  standing  immovable  in  the  spray  and 
sunshine  of  the  seashore  far  away;  and  he  re 
flected  with  gratitude  that  the  things  he  loved 
best  could  never  be  made  ridiculous. 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  temperament  mixed 
up  with  Lauder's  theories  of  life.  An  intimate 
friend  of  his  had  once  described  him  as  "  the 
Puritan  rake ; "  and  it  really  described  him,  in  so 
far  as  such  paradoxes  are  descriptive.  He  was 
far  from  bloodless,  but  he  was  no  lover  of  indis 
criminate  pleasures,  and  in  his  contemplation  of 
them  was  doubtless  mingled  some  satisfaction  in 


122  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

his  own  attitude  of  aloofness,  and  some  Puritan 
sense  of  superiority  in  the  thought  that,  although 
they  might  be  good  enough  for  other  people,  they 
were  not  good  enough  for  him,  and  that  he  was 
elected  to  a  greater  destiny.  It  is  a  strange  thing, 
this  sombre  and  gloomy  strain  that  still  persists 
in  the  English  after  so  many  generations  have 
come  and  gone;  for  lofty,  austere,  and  admirable 
as  it  is,  and  invaluable  as  an  influence  of  stiffen 
ing  and  enduring  qualities,  it  remains  incapable 
of  mingling  with  the  fabric  of  a  more  highly 
colored  life;  and  in  the  fabric  of  Lauder's  life 
it  was  twisted  up  with,  but  hopelessly  distinct 
from,  the  golden  thread  of  an  almost  Greek  wor 
ship  of  youthful  and  sensuous  pleasure. 

And  it  was  a  strange  chance  that  made  him 
Richard's  Grey's  guide  to  the  pleasures  of  Paris. 
For  if  Lauder  was  a  Puritan  rake,  Eichard  was 
by  nature  an  ascetic  amorist.  The  very  same 
qualities  that  made  him  whole-heartedly  devoted 
to  his  work  turned  him,  when  the  time  came,  to 
an  equally  whole-hearted  devotion  to  pleasure. 
He  was  always  full  front  to  life ;  he  never  turned 
one  way,  and  looked  over  his  shoulder  another; 
one  thing  at  a  time  held  all  of  him.  Lauder 
peered  closely  into  things,  examined  them  with  a 
microscope,  saw  too  much,  and  recoiled  from  their 
touch;  Eichard  saw  only  what  was  visible  at  one 
focus,  and  waded  in  breast-high  if  what  he  saw 
attracted  him. 


THE   HOUSE    ON    THE   SANDS          123 

Paris  welcomed  them  with  a  glow  of  evening 
sunshine  and  a  full-blooded  tide  of  life  in  her 
broad  streets.  Upon  Eichard,  fresh  from  his  long 
and  solitary  sojourn  by  the  seashore,  the  quick 
and  sounding  tide  of  humanity  acted  as  a  power 
ful  tonic;  and  the  lights  and  spacious  dignity 
of  the  streets,  the  continual  brisk  passage  of 
carriages  and  automobiles,  the  great  evening 
preparations  for  pleasure  in  cafes,  restaurants, 
and  theatres,  excited  him  like  wine.  They 
dined  at  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix,  and  Eichard 
tasted  his  first  caneton  a  la  presse  —  a  great 
moment,  by  the  due  and  quick  appreciation  of 
which  he  won  Lauder's  heart.  They  loitered  over 
their  cigars,  and  sauntered  in  the  boulevards  until 
eleven  o'clock.  What  a  throng  of  searchers  for 
the  hidden  treasure  of  joy  were  there!  The 
balmy  summer  night,  the  brightly  lighted  avenues 
of  chestnuts,  the  lines  of  cafes  with  their  crowded 
open-air  seats,  the  hurrying  waiters,  the  moving 
crowd  of  passengers  on  the  pavement,  the  families 
sitting  together  over  a  consommation,  the  clerks 
and  shop  assistants  drinking  beer  and  eying  every 
woman  that  passed,  made  a  scene  of  life  and  ani 
mation  that  sent  the  blood  a  little  faster  through 
even  the  most  jaded  and  weary  veins.  The  two 
men  sat  outside  a  cafe,  and  allowed  the  crowd  to 
hypnotize  them  by  its  endless  flowing.  Solitary 
women  .by  the  dozen  passed  across  their  view; 
their  stereotyped  air  of  invitation  —  skirt  held  up 


124  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

with  one  hand,  the  other  arm  swinging,  the  hat 
tipped  down  over  the  face,  the  head  held  rigidly 
straight,  the  oblique  glance  of  the  eyes,  the  sudden 
glittering  smile,  the  admirable  acceptance  of  re 
fusal  or  rebuff  —  interesting  though  it  is  for  a 
moment,  became  nauseating  immediately. 

"  That's  what  I  call  vice,"  said  Lauder ;  "  it 
shocks  and  frightens  me.  It  is  so  hideous  and 
cruel,  there  is  so  little  happiness  in  it  for  any 
body;  there  is  only  courage  and  the  keeping  up 
of  appearances.  And  yet  I  suppose  even  these 
women  find  some  way  of  making  life  tolerable 
—  but  how  they  hate  their  work !  " 

Eichard  sat  with  his  eyes  drawn  along  by  the 
moving  crowd,  as  the  passing  landscape  of  a  rail 
way  draws  and  detains  the  eye  of  the  passenger. 

"  Cruel,  ugly,  shocking  —  yes ;  but  how  inter 
esting  ! " 

"  Well,  this  is  vice  and  immorality ;  I  will  show 
you  pleasure  and  immorality  presently,  and  you 
will  see  the  difference.  It  is  when  I  sit  in  a  place 
like  this  that  I  suddenly  see  Paris  as  the  most 
ridiculous  and  grotesque  place  in  the  world.  Paris 
thinks  of  only  one  thing,  exists  for  only  one  thing. 
All  day  it  toils  and  earns  money,  and  builds 
houses,  and  prepares  food,  in  order  that  at  night 
it  may  devote  itself  to  its  one  interest.  It  gets 
on  my  nerves.  All  those  fine,  dignified  buildings, 
all  its  interest  in  clothes,  what  are  they  but  the 
expression  of  an  infinite  respect  for  this  ridiculous 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         125 

occupation,  and  a  desire  that  it  should  be  con 
ducted  in  suitable  surroundings?  Paris  has  the 
most  perfect  system  of  passenger  transit  in  Eu 
rope  —  in  order  that  Jacques  may  get  to  Marie 
as  quickly  and  as  cheaply  as  possible.  Paris  in 
vented  the  petit  bleu  —  in  order  that  for  twopence 
Marie  might  tell  Jacques  not  to  come,  as  her  hus 
band  had  returned.  Paris  discovered  absinthe  as 
a  national  drink  —  in  order  that  Jacques's  nerves 
might  be  pulled '  together.  Look  at  the  shop  win 
dows;  look  at  the  picture-galleries;  look  at  the 
literature,  at  the  drama,  at  the  music  —  what  is 
it  that  absorbs  and  interests  everybody?  God! 
the  whole  place  is  like  a  Phallic  temple."  He 
smiled.  "  It's  funny,  Eichard ;  it's  damned 
funny ;  but  it's  something  else  as  well :  it's  fright 
ful  ! " 

"  You  mean  because  it's  artificial  ?  " 
"  Because  it  is  so  truly  indecent.  I  don't  care 
twopence  about  its  immorality,  —  morality  is  only 
an  underbred  substitute  for  decency,  —  but  it's  so 
shamelessly  indecent !  It  is  this  businesslike  pur 
suit  on  the  part  of  the  French  of  something  that 
ought  to  be  private  and  accidental;  it's  like 
trawling  for  butterflies  out  of  a  thousand-horse 
power  airship." 

"  My  sensation  about  the  whole  thing  is  a  curi 
ous  one,"  said  Eichard.  "  I  can't  say  it  offends 
me :  I'm  much  too  interested  to  be  offended ;  but 
I  feel  somehow  out  of  it,  as  if  I  were  another 


126  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

kind  of  animal,  as  if  I'd  no  business  to  be  here. 
It's  not  the  thing  itself,  but  my  presence,  that  is 
indecent.  I  have  the  same  feeling  that  I  have 
always  had  when  I  have  looked  in  at  a  glass- 
fronted  beehive  —  a  feeling  of  profound  imper 
tinence." 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,  but  you'll  get  over 
that.  Keep  your  air  of  detachment  as  long  as 
you  can  —  you'll  see  more.  I  got  to  know  this 
particular  world  too  gradually,  and  got  used  to  it ; 
one  should  come  upon  it  suddenly,  as  you  are 
doing.  And  now  for  your  first  glimpse  of  Mont- 
martre." 

They  sauntered  through  the  warm  streets,  past 
the  hurrying  crowds,  until  they  came  to  the  slope 
of  the  hill  and  into  the  quietness  of  the  Eue 
Pigalle,  that  steep  starlit  alley  where  on  the  hot 
test  night  there  is  always  some  coolness  and  fresh 
ness  in  the  air.  The  streets  about  Montmartre 
are  always  quiet  at  night,  for  its  life  concentrates 
itself  within-doors ;  and  when  they  turned  into 
the  Bal  Tabarin  the  sudden  noise  and  light  and 
heat  bewildered  them.  Eichard  saw  before  him  a 
great  room,  with  a  gallery  running  around  it, 
a  bar  along  one  side,  and  little  tables  everywhere 
under  the  gallery;  a  band  was  playing  at  one 
end,  and  the  whole  place  was  thronged  with  men 
and  women.  The  floor  was  crowded  with  dancers; 
the  tables  were  crowded;  the  long  bar  was 
crowded.  The  men  came  in  from  out-of-doors 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         127 

just  as  they  were,  in  hats  and  overcoats,  in  which 
they  danced;  and  all  the  women  wore  hats  and 
ordinary  walking-dresses.  A  gay  sound  of  talk 
and  laughter  rose  above  the  persistent  rhythm 
of  the  band;  and  the  building  seemed  to  tremble 
with  the  energy  and  vivacity  of  the  dancers.  It 
was  a  scene  of  real  festivity. 

"  Heavens !  what  a  difference !  "  said  Eichard, 
as  he  and  Lauder  stood  in  a  corner  regarding  the 
good-tempered  commotion.  "  How  different  from 
that  sombre  business  in  the  boulevards  —  and  yet 
the  same  thing !  " 

"  Not  quite  the  same,"  said  Lauder.  "  That 
was  trade ;  this  is  pleasure.  It's  only  the  absence 
of  morality  that  you  see  in  common.  You  must 
get  that  idea  of  morality  out  of  your  head,  because 
it  doesn't  exist  in  this  world  —  and  what's  more 
important,  the  consciousness  of  its  absence  doesn't 
exist.  That  is  what  makes  this  kind  of  thing  so 
utterly  impossible  in  England.  The  consciousness 
of  doing  something  wrong  would  make  it  ugly. 
Here  there  is  no  such  consciousness,  and  everybody 
is  happy." 

They  sat  down  at  a  table  and  watched  the  eddies 
of  a  waltz  swinging  round  and  round  the  room. 
It  was  a  festival  of  the  people;  there  was  no 
evidence  of  money  there;  the  small  shopkeepers, 
clerks,  artisans  among  the  men  were  matched  by 
the  small  shopkeepers,  assistants,  typewriters,  and 
theatre  employees  amongst  the  women.  There 


128  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

was  no  distinctive  class  of  cocottes  indicated  either 
by  dress  or  behavior;  every  woman  seemed  a 
possible  cocotte,  or  else  an  entirely  virtuous  and 
domestic  creature;  it  depended,  you  felt,  on  cir 
cumstances.  There  was  a  happy  air  of  freedom, 
moreover,  that  was  the  reverse  of  commercial; 
and  every  now  and  then  a  man  would  go  up  to 
a  woman,  ask  her  to  dance,  circle  a  few  times 
around  the  great  arena,  and  then  deposit  her  again 
in  her  seat  with  a  smile  and  a  bow.  There  was 
a  much  greater  proportion  of  women  than  of 
men;  but  dancing  seemed  to  be  a  much  more 
real  interest  than  flirtation,  and  half  the  couples 
were  made  up  of  women  dancing  together. 

The  two  men  let  their  eyes  rest  on  the  revolving 
mass,  until  they  were  attracted  by  some  particular 
face,  which  they  would  follow  around  for  a  few 
turns  until  they  were  attracted  to  another.  It  is 
an  endlessly  amusing  game,  this  play  of  face  upon 
face;  endless  the  curiosity  and  interest  of  dis 
covering,  amid  a  throng  of  strangers,  the  faces 
in  which  we  find  signals  of  kindness  and  beauty; 
endless  the  occupation,  when  once  we  have  dis 
covered  the  law  of  nature  on  which  the  varied 
attraction  is  founded,  in  looking  for  the  charac 
teristics  that  are  the  complements  of  our  own,  and 
recognizing  them  as  they  appear  successively  in 
each  new  face  to  which  we  are  drawn. 

"  There's  the  prettiest  woman  in  the  room," 
said  Lauder,  thinking  it  time  to  live  up  to  his 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE  SANDS         129 

reputation  as  a  connoisseur.  He  pointed  out  a 
dark,,  pretty  girl  in  a  well-made  blue  cloth  cos 
tume  and  a  black  hat  with  red  cherries  in  it.  She 
saw  their  admiring  glances,  left  the  girl  she  was 
dancing  with,  and  came  over  to  them.  She  had 
charming  eyes  that  sparkled  with  merriment  and 
good  humor.  She  put  an  arm  around  each  of 
them  and  said: 

"II  fait  chaudf  mes  enfants.  Allans  boire  un 
coup !  " 

They  went  over  to  the  bar,  ordered  the  orange 
ade,  and  listened  to  her  interesting  prattle.  Bich- 
ard,  devoured  with  curiosity,  plied  her  with  ques 
tions  about  herself,  which  she  answered  with  an 
amused  and  charming  frankness.  She  was  evi 
dently  rather  a  queen  in  the  local  world  of  pleas 
ure  that  had  its  headquarters  in  the  Bal  Tabarin. 
A  true  fille  de  joie,  she  took  no  thought  for  the 
morrow,  lived  from  day  to  day,  and  enjoyed  her 
self.  "  I  have  several  good  friends,"  she  said ; 
"  one  of  them  pays  the  rent  of  my  apartment. 
Oh!  but  you  must  see  my  apartment;  it  is  so 
neat  and  elegant  —  ires  chic,  tres  bien"  She  was 
to  be  found  at  the  Bal  Tabarin  nearly  every  night ; 
she  dined  at  the  Rat  Mort  down-stairs,  where  the 
dinner,  vin  compris,  cost  two  francs  fifty;  she 
supped  —  where  any  one  was  kind  enough  to 
invite  her. 

"  We'll  take  her  out  to  supper  if  you  like,  Rich 
ard,"  said  Lauder ;  "  but  explain  that  the  invita- 


130  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

tion  has  nothing  to  do  with  business,  and  that  if 
she  has  anything  else  to  do  we  won't  take  her 
time  up." 

Richard  explained  —  a  little  too  plainly  per 
haps,  for  she  looked  almost  offended.  She  quite 
understood:  it  was  pour  le  bon  motif.  Then  rose 
the  question  of  where  they  were  to  go.  Richard 
ignorantly  suggested  the  Cafe  de  Paris,  Lauder 
Maxim's,  but  she  would  hear  of  neither,  and  sug 
gested  a  small  cafe  in  the  Boulevard  Montmartre. 
Lauder  protested  that  it  was  not  smart  enough; 
that  they  wished  to  take  so  charming  a  lady  some 
where  more  worthy  of  her. 

She  shook  her  head.  "  Moi,  je  suis  Montmar- 
troise"  she  said;  "let  us  not  go  to  the  Grands 
Boulevards."  She  indicated  her  plain,  prettily 
made  day  dress  —  her  one  garment  of  cere 
mony,  probably  —  and  said :  "  Here  I  am  chic, 
every  one  admires  me;  there  I  should  be  dull, 
triste,  no  one  would  look  at  me."  And  with  bril 
liant  wisdom  she  insisted  on  the  environment  in 
which  she  knew  she  could  shine. 

They  went  to  the  Rabelais,  and  in  its  rather 
dusty  and  shabby  firmament  Marthe,  with  her  two 
good-looking  companions  in  evening  dress,  seated 
before  the  most  expensive  supper  the  place  could 
produce,  was  a  triumphant  and  glittering  star. 
She  knew  every  other  woman  in  the  place,  and 
although  her  behavior  was  propriety  itself  (except 
when  she  put  her  arm  around  Richard's  neck  to 


THE   HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         131 

feed  him  with  strawberries),  she  obviously  re 
joiced,  in  a  good-humored  and  dignified  way,  at 
her  success  and  the  envy  she  was  exciting.  She 
laid  herself  out  to  entertain  her  entertainers;  she 
charmed  them  with  her  accounts  of  her  life,  and 
with  her  sound  judgment  of  the  world;  but  most 
of  all  she  charmed  them,  herself  all  unconscious, 
by  an  essential  goodness  and  kindness  of  heart, 
a  radiance  and  wholesomeness  of  character  that 
shone  upon  and  brightened  the  whole  of  her  per 
sonality.  They  sat  long  over  supper,  enchanted 
by  her  conversation,  and  then  drove  her  home  to 
her  little  flat  in  the  Eue  Blanche.  She  would 
have  been  hurt  if  they  had  not  come  in  and  seen 
it.  The  place  was  like  a  doll's  house:  a  little 
bedroom,  a  smaller  anteroom,  and  a  little  box 
of  a  pantry  with  a  stove  in  it,  and  all  her  pots 
and  pans  scoured  and  scrubbed  and  shining  on 
the  walls.  It  was  all  as  clean  as  a  new  pin.  They 
smoked  a  cigarette  with  her,  and  then  departed 
with  an  affectionate  kiss  each,  and  a  promise  that 
she  would  show  them  Montmartre  on  the  Sunday 
afternoon.  "  I  feel  as  if  I'd  known  her  all  my 
life,"  said  Eichard,  as  they  came  out  into  the 
street,  and  met  the  cold  clean  air  that  the  Seine 
sends  up  in  the  small  hours  to  renew  the  wasted 
atmosphere  of  Paris. 

"  That's  Montmartre,"  said  Lauder ;  "  I  don't 
know  where  else  in  the  world  that  extraordinary 
atmosphere  of  intimacy  exists.  The  sentimental 


132  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

books  that  people  used  to  write  about  the  Latin 
Quarter  tried  to  represent  it;  but  that  was  a 
nasty  domestic  intimacy,,  all  mixed  up  with  cook 
ing,  and  wearing  each  other's  clothes,  and  getting 
drunk.  They  observe  charming  proprieties  in 
Montmartre." 

"  Well,  I  don't  feel  a  bit  tired,"  said  Eichard. 
"  Where  shall  we  go  now  ?  " 

"  It's  rather  late  for  Maxim's,  but  I  think  we 
might  get  in.  The  contrast  is  one  you  shouldn't 
miss."  They  hailed  a  cab,  and  were  soon  rattling 
down  toward  the  boulevards.  "  Gad,  it's  a  long 
time  since  I  indulged  in  this  sort  of  dissipation; 
but  if  one  is  young  and  healthy  enough  to  stand 
the  late  hours,  and  interested  enough  in  one's 
fellow  men,  I  don't  know  anything  better  worth 
doing  in  Paris." 

"  And  do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  Lauder,  that  you 
live  in  this  sort  of  world,  and  know  it  so  well, 
without  —  well,  is  your  interest  always  that  of  a 
mere  spectator  ?  " 

"  Good  heavens,  yes ;  it  would  bore  me  to  go 
too  deep.  That  kind  of  promiscuous  amusement 
is  all  right  for  boys  and  old  men,  but  it  has  no 
interest  for  me." 

"  I've  always  felt  the  same,"  said  Kichard,  "  but 
I  thought  I  must  be  abnormal." 

"  I  don't  think  so.  It  is  one  of  the  many  super 
stitions  of  the  polite  world  that  promiscuous  vice 
has  a  fatal  attraction  for  young  men,  and  that  the 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         133 

only  chance  is  to  keep  the  sight  of  it  away  from 
them.  My  experience  is  just  the  contrary.  It  is 
the  life  that  is  so  interesting,  and  the  people.  If 
you  look  at  the  men  who  really  support  this  world, 
you  see  they  are  all  of  one  type  —  and  a  type  that 
would  be  rotten  in  the  most  virtuous  surround 
ings.  I  don't  count  Frenchmen,  of  course;  it's 
the  business  of  their  lives." 

The  carriage  turned  into  the  Hue  Eoyale.  "  I 
warn  you,  you  won't  like  Maxim's,  Kichard.  It's 
the  most  sordid  place  in  the  world  —  the  last  note 
of  ugliness  in  an  ugly  civilization  of  money.  I 
hate  the  place;  but  you  ought  to  see  it." 

They  drew  up  at  the  door  of  the  famous  cafe. 
For  some  reason  it  was  open  specially  late  that 
night,  and  people  were  still  being  admitted,  al 
though  as  a  rule  the  entrance  is  closed  hours 
before  the  place  itself  is  empty.  While  Lauder 
was  looking  for  change  with  which  to  pay  the 
cabman,  Eichard  stood  by  the  great  wheeling  door, 
and  watched,  with  a  kind  of  awe,  the  double  tide 
that  streamed  in  and  out  through  the  great  glass 
leaves.  It  was  like  a  turbine,  kept  in  ceaseless 
motion  by  the  human  current  that  sets  toward 
pleasure.  Money  and  youth  and  beauty  flowed 
in;  money  and  youth  and  beauty  flowed  out; 
and  where  there  was  neither  youth  nor  beauty 
there  were  the  imitations  and  symbols  of  both. 
As  the  two  men  passed  out  from  the  cool  night 
air  within  the  door  they  felt  as  though  they  were 


134  THE   SANDS   OF   PLEASURE 

being  stifled.  The  place  glowed  with  rosy  light 
from  hundreds  of  shaded  lamps,  which  shone 
upon  the  gleaming  table-cloths,  upon  glass  and 
silver  dishes;  but  shone  most  effectively  iipon  the 
rows  and  rows  of  fashionably  dressed  men  and 
women  who  sat  at  the  tables,  packed  together  like 
children  at  a  school  feast.  Between  the  tables 
there  was  so  little  room  that  the  waiters  could 
hardly  pass;  yet  the  greed  for  places  was  such 
that  the  waiters  were  crowded  and  pressed  upon, 
and  had  to  push  and  burrow  their  way  through 
the  gay,  glittering  throng.  Two  men  coming  in 
alone  attracted  the  attention  of  all  the  women; 
and  Lauder  was  twice  greeted  by  acquaintances  as 
they  passed  down  the  long  room  looking  for  a  seat. 
Eichard  had  been  caught  in  the  crowd,  and  was 
separated  for  a  moment  from  his  friend,  who  was 
still  searching  for  places ;  and  as  he  was  standing, 
unable  to  move,  he  felt  his  arm  gently  touched. 
A  charming-looking  woman,  with  sad  dark  eyes, 
exquisitely  dressed,  who  was  sitting  at  one  of  the 
tables,  was  looking  at  him  with  a  smile  so  friendly, 
so  recognizing,  that  he  felt  as  though  she  must 
know  him,  and  he  was  for  a  moment  embarrassed. 
"  Will  monsieur  sit  down  here  ?  "  she  said ;  "  I 
think  I  can  find  room  for  him."  Eichard  felt 
himself  in  danger  of  blushing;  he  had  never  been 
rude  to  a  woman  in  his  life,  and  it  seemed  to  him 
appalling  to  appear  unappreciative  of  so  much 
friendly  charm  expressed  with  so  much  refinement 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         135 

and  breeding.  The  easy  rebuff  of  the  streets 
seemed  impossible  here ;  and  the  exquisitely  man 
icured  and  jewelled  hand  that  rested  so  lightly  on 
his  arm  was  like  the  appeal  of  a  whole  sex  for 
consideration  and  protection.  Raising  his  hat  he 
stammered :  "  Thank  you,  madame,  but  —  I  am 
looking  for  —  I  am  with  my  friend/'  She  smiled 
with  the  same  charming  courtesy,  and  turned 
away,  leaving  poor  Eichard  feeling  as  though  he 
had  refused  shelter  to  an  angel.  Just  then,  how 
ever,  he  was  hailed  by  Lauder,  who  had  found 
two  seats  in  a  sort  of  alcove  with  a  raised  floor 
at  the  far  end  of  the  room;  and  he  hurried  away 
to  join  him. 

They  sat  down  and  ordered  champagne,  which 
they  did  not  drink,  and  Vittel,  which  they  did; 
and  Eichard  noticed  that  every  one  in  the  place 
was  drinking  champagne,  and  that  before  every 
unattended  woman  who  came  into  the  place  the 
waiters  immediately  placed  a  pint  of  that  wine 
in  an  ice-bucket,  which,  if  she  discovered  no  en 
tertainer,  she  had  to  pay  for  herself.  It  was  the 
toll  levied  on  all  who  came.  Nearly  every  woman 
was  smoking;  there  was  a  clatter  of  conversation 
which  came  near  to  drowning  the  band ;  and  above 
the  tables,  what  with  the  heat  and  the  noise  and 
the  smoke,  the  atmosphere  shimmered  and  shook 
as  though  it  were  on  fire  with  passionate  excite 
ment.  The  women's  hats,  many  of  them  admi 
rable  and  expensive  creations  of  the  most  famous 


136  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

milliners  in  Europe,  made  a  kind  of  bed  of  flow 
ers  hanging  in  the  haze  of  the  smoke;  their 
gleaming  necks  and  shoulders,  dark-lidded  glow 
ing  eyes,  the  many  lovely  faces,  and  pale,  delicate, 
low-cut  dresses  of  lace  and  chiffon  and  other 
flimsy  fabrics,  transformed  the  place  into  a  garden 
of  passions  and  pleasures  —  a  garden  of  human 
flowers,  on  which  diamonds  twinkled  and  glit 
tered  like  dew.  In  a  cleared  space  below  the  al 
cove  a  few  girls,  the  better  to  display  themselves, 
were  waltzing  together. 

"  The  Venusburg,"  said  Lauder ;  "  and  rather 
a  depressing  place,  don't  you  think?" 

"  I  wonder  if  depressing  is  the  word,"  answered 
Eichard.  "  There  seems  to  be  something  poison 
ous  about  it  —  I  don't  know  exactly  what." 

"  It's  the  winishness  —  the  money  and  cham 
pagne  that  offends  one.  There  is  only  one  stand 
ard  here,  and  that's  money.  And  look  at  the 
men!" 

They  were  a  curious  crowd  —  chiefly  English 
and  American,  all  pretty  much  of  one  class  —  the 
monied  class.  Most  of  them  had  a  sort  of  des 
perate  demeanor,  a  defiant  air  of  enjoyment,  an 
artificial  recklessness  that  mingled  ill  with  their 
obvious  determination  to  get  value  for  their 
money.  Most  of  them  had  arrived  at  that  stage 
of  the  night  when  they  had  drunk  too  much  cham 
pagne  and  smoked  too  many  cigarettes;  many  of 
them  appeared  to  suffer  from  headache;  not  one, 


THE   HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS          137 

in  that  garden  of  the  pleasures,  looked  happy  or 
contented.  Only  the  women  —  admirable,  cour 
ageous  dissemblers !  —  looked  alert  and  interested, 
charmed  and  charming,  and  their  smiles  and 
laughter  made  a  rippling  mask  of  happiness  that 
concealed  the  essential  grimace  of  the  place. 

Suddenly  Lauder's  attention  was  attracted  by 
a  clear  girlish  voice  quite  near  him. 

"  Hello !  How  d'you  do  ?  I  never  saw  you  till 
this  minute,  I  give  you  my  vord !  "  And  a  slight 
figure,  wonderfully  clad  in  palest  pink  voile,  ap 
peared  before  the  two  men. 

"  Hullo,  Toni,  my  child,"  said  Lauder,  "  how 
are  you?  And  what  are  you  doing  here,  after  all 
the  good  advice  I  gave  you  two  years  ago  at  Aix- 
les-Bains?" 

"  Oh,  don't  be  foolish,  my  dear ;  I'm  not  a 
fool.  Here,  I  come  and  sit  beside  you  —  my 
friend  won't  mind.  I  tell  you  I  had  in  Aix-les- 
Bains,  oil,  such  a  good  time !  I  never  haf  so  good 
a  time  in  all  my  life!  And  lots,  lots  of  money! 
Oh,  money,  my  dear,  how  I  lof  it ! "  And  she 
launched  out  into  an  account  of  some  friend  who 
was  known  both  to  her  and  Lauder. 

Her  first  appearance  gave  Eichard  a  shock  of 
pleasure  —  she  was  so  utterly  unlike  every  other 
woman  in  the  place.  A  kind  of  aura  of  youth 
and  charm  shone  about  her.  She  was  small  and 
slight,  exquisitely  made  and  moulded,  with  a 
small  head  poised  over  shoulders  that  a  Greek 


138  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

might  have  worshipped,  and  surmounted  by  a 
mass  of  tawny  golden  hair  crushed  with  an  ap 
pearance  of  carelessness  under  the  roses  of  her 
hat.  Her  only  bad  feature  was  her  mouth,  and  it, 
though  bad,  was  fascinating.  It  was  restless  and 
tormented;  the  teeth  were  a  little  too  prominent, 
the  lips  a  little  too  red  and  moist.  But  Eichard 
was  able  to  look  at  nothing  but  her  eyes  when 
once  he  had  met  their  gaze.  It  was  her  eyes  that 
decided  him,  after  he  had  noticed  her  mouth,  that 
in  spite  of  it  she  was  not  only  pretty  but  beauti 
ful.  They  were  of  that  color  that  for  want  of 
a  more  exact  term  one  calls  golden;  they  were 
sombre  and  grave,  like  a  wondering  child's;  but 
in  their  depths  there  slumbered  a  dull  smoulder 
ing  fire  that  held  in  it  the  inscrutable  mystery 
of  ages.  Her  face  was  seldom  in  repose,  and  the 
eyes  shifted  and  danced  about  as  she  nodded  and 
laughed;  but  in  any  moment  of  gravity  they 
became  earnest  and  scrutinizing,  and  the  smoul 
dering  fire  in  them  seemed  to  stir  and  leap  up 
into  a  golden  flame.  She  was  perfectly  aware  of 
Eichard's  scrutiny,  and  presently  turned  and  in 
cluded  him  in  her  prattling  conversation. 

"  How  long  you  been  in  Paris  ?  Only  just 
come?  I  been  here  von  week.  Oh,  no,  my  dear, 
of  course,  I'm  not  here  on  business.  He  is  stupid 
to  talk  like  that.  I  come  for  a  little  fun,  I  been 
very  tired.  Vhat  you  think,  I  come  here  to 
Maxim's  like  dies  other  vomens?  No,  my  dear, 


THE   HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         139 

you  do  not  know  me  if  you  say  that.  I  come  over 
from  London  with  two  other  girls.  We  go  on  to 
Rat  Mort  now.  You  come  too?" 

"  No,  not  to-night,"  said  Lauder.  "  We're 
sleepy;  we've  been  travelling  all  day.  Another 
night." 

"  All  right.  You  come  Maxim's  again  to-mor 
row?  Then  I  see  you.  Auf  wiedersehen  !  "  And 
she  floated  back  to  the  rather  angry-looking  man 
who  was  waiting  for  her  at  her  table. 

"  Who  is  she  ?  "  asked  Eichard,  as,  having  paid 
their  bill  and  various  tolls  to  vestiaires  and  door 
porters,  they  gratefully  escaped  into  the  cool  morn 
ing  twilight  and  walked  toward  their  hotel. 

"Ah,  she's  one  of  the  aristocrats.  Her  name 
is  Toni  something  or  other,  —  I  forget  what,  — 
she's  a  German  Pole.  I  met  her  at  Aix-les-Bains 
two  years  ago.  She  was  kept  by  a  Eussian  prince, 
who  thought  the  world  of  her;  but  he  must  have 
turned  her  down,  or  she  wouldn't  be  here.  I  can't 
think  in  any  case  what  she's  doing  in  Maxim's: 
it's  not  her  world,  or  ought  not  to  be.  There's  a 
certain  waywardness  and  perversity  about  her 
that's  rather  charming." 

"  She  a  wonderfully  beautiful  woman,"  said 
Eichard.  "  How  old  is  she  ?  " 

"  About  twenty-four,  I  should  say.  But  beauti 
ful  ?  I  don't  know  that  I  call  her  beautiful,  with 
that  bad  mouth."  He  yawned.  "  God,  how 
sleepy  I  am !  " 


140  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

"  I'm  grateful  to  you  for  to-night,"  said  Kich- 
ard.  "  I  won't  forget  it  easily.  We'll  go  to  Mont- 
martre  again,  but  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  I  never 
saw  Maxim's  any  more.  I've  had  enough  of  that 
to  last  me  a  lifetime.  It's  a  shocking  place.  I 
don't  like  to  think  of  your  pretty  friend  Toni 
there." 

"  Silly  little  fool !  "  said  Lauder.  "  Fancy  that 
being  her  idea  of  fun  and  a  holiday!  It's  worse 
than  the  'bus-driver  who  spends  his  day  off  riding 
on  the  other  'buses.  But  thank  God  we're  home. 
Look  at  that!" 

They  stood  for  a  moment  before  the  hotel  door 
to  watch  the  rosy  dawn  flushing  the  sky  behind 
the  Louvre.  Men  were  busy  flooding  the  streets 
with  clear  sparkling  water,  cold  and  cleansing 
draughts  of  air  were  pouring  through  the  arteries 
of  the  great  city,  the  buildings  shone  white  with 
sharp  outlines  against  the  sky,  and  the  birds  were 
chirping  and  singing  in  the  Tuileries  gardens. 
It  was  a  wonderful  scene  of  morning  and  renewal, 
of  the  lonely  coming  of  the  unsoiled  summer  day 
that  has  none  but  sleepy  revellers  to  welcome  it. 
Eichard's  last  waking  thoughts  mingled  it  with 
dim  memories  of  the  happy  irresponsible  gaiety 
of  Montmartre,  and  of  Marthe's  kind  camaraderie; 
and  with  a  clearer  vision  of  lights  and  colors  and 
jewels,  the  flower-like  faces  of  women,  and  golden 
eyes  smouldering  under  a  tawny  crown  of  hair. 


II 


THE  Bois  de  Boulogne  on  a  summer  morning 
—  where  else  can  you  observe  to  so  much 
achrantage  the  comic  efforts  of  an  overcivilized 
world  to  untie  its  knots  and  smooth  itself  out  ?  It 
represents  the  stage  in  perversion  when  fresh  air 
and  sunshine  are  taken  as  a  whet,  a  liqueur ;  when 
all  the  heated,  scented  life  of  indoors  has  passed, 
and  pleasure  must  be  exposed  to  a  different  atmos 
phere  in  order  that  its  lost  flavor  may  be  restored. 
The  trim,  watered  roads,  the  groves  of  small 
orderly  trees  that  make  so  pretty  a  feature  in  the 
landscape  garden  of  Paris;  the  moving  proces 
sion  of  men  and  women  that  drive  round  and 
round  or  walk  up  and  down  to  exhibit  themselves; 
the  stationary  mass  of  those  who  come  to  look 
at  the  show  —  in  these  simple  circumstances  you 
may  see  poor  Hygeia,  stifled  and  bleached  by  dark 
ness,  smothered  under  eider-downs  and  pillows, 
groping  and  feeling  and  thrusting  blindly  toward 
the  sunshine  and  daylight  that  are  her  element. 

Lauder  and  Eichard  were  seated  on  a  couple 
of  chairs   near  the  top   of  the  Alice  de  Long- 
champs  watching  the  fluent  crowds  on  foot,  on 
141 


142  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

horseback,  and  in  carriages.  Lander  was  absorbed 
in  the  hypnotizing  sight,  but  Richard's  mind  was 
a  little  in  arrear,  and  in  spite  of  the  sunshine, 
the  clear  cool  air,  and  the  sense  of  health  and 
vitality  in  his  veins,  the  company  of  his  thoughts 
was  not  all  collected.  Some  of  them  tarried  in 
the  lighted  restaurants  and  starlit  streets  of  the 
night  before. 

"  This  is  a  different  Paris,"  he  said  aloud, 
emerging  into  speech  at  the  end  of  a  long  medi 
tation. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it ;  the  same  Paris.  I  know  you 
think  I  have  a  bee  in  my  bonnet  on  this  subject, 
but  look  at  them  ?  You  know  the  Irish  saying  — 
if  you  see  a  pig,  hit  him,  because  if  he's  not  going 
into  mischief  he's  just  coming  out  of  it?  Well, 
that's  your  Frenchman.  If  he's  not  going  to  his 
lady-love  of  the  moment,  he's  just  coming  from 
her  —  or  else  he's  thinking  about  her  or  some 
other  woman.  It's  the  flat  truth;  and  it's  so 
simple  and  grotesque  that  polite  English  people 
won't  believe  you  —  they  say  you're  exaggerat- 
ing." 

"  Keally,  Lauder,  I  shall  begin  to  think  you  are 
a  Frenchman  yourself.  You've  talked  about 
nothing  else  since  we  arrived." 

"  And  pray  what  else  is  there  to  talk  about  in 
Paris  ?  I  never  think  about  it  elsewhere,  —  we 
never  talked  about  it  in  Cornwall,  —  but  here  it 
is  in  the  air  you  breathe.  Even  the  dogs  have 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS          143 

a  sly,  preoccupied  expression.  Besides,  my  dear 
Eichard,  for  Heaven's  sake,  don't  be  prudish,  or 
you'll  scare  me.  I  want  you  to  get  out  of  your 
mind  that  it's  morbid  or  beastly,  —  it's  only  in 
odd  moments  that  it  is,  —  I  want  you  to  see  how 
really  funny  it  is.  If  the  whole  of  France  is 
shaking  with  the  antics  of  Venus,  the  whole 
heavens  are  shaking  with  laughter."  And  Lauder 
laughed  himself  until  he  infected  Eichard. 

"  Look  at  them.  Look  at  the  men,  peacocking 
about  on  horses  they  can't  ride.  All  for  madame, 
when  she  drives  by." 

"  I'm  trying  to  think,"  said  Eichard,  "  what 
their  riding  reminds  me  of .  ...  I  know :  it's  the 
way  they  eat  boiled  eggs.  They  do  both  with  an 
air  of  bravado,  as  if  they  were  doing  something 
devilish  fine,  and  make  an  infinite  fuss  over  both. 
I  suppose  you  would  say  it  was  a  kind  of  cock 
crow." 

"  Dear,  charming  people !  And  they  call  them 
frivolous  —  the  most  serious  people  in  the  world. 
Look  at  their  intent  faces.  The  men  so  busy,  lest 
they  should  pass  a  pretty  woman  unnoticed;  the 
women  so  delightfully  assured,  so  happily  secure 
of  their  meed  of  attention !  The  plainest  woman 
takes  trouble  with  her  appearance,  because  she 
knows  that  every  man  she  meets  will  take  her  in 
from  top  to  toe  in  one  just,  appraising  glance. 
He  will  notice  that  she  has  an  ugly  face,  but  a 
good  figure;  he  will  notice  that  she  has  an  ugly 


144  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

face,  a  bad  complexion,  a  poor  figure,  but  that 
she  has  good  hands  and  feet;  he  will  notice  any 
single  good  point  she  has,  if  it  is  only  the  way 
she  carries  her  parasol.  And  it  is  the  French 
man's  spider-like  attention  to  what  is  the  business 
of  life  in  all  its  details  that  keeps  the  women 
in  such  a  good  temper  and  constantly  occupied. 
The  young  girls  are  wondering  how  long  it  will 
be  before  their  turn  comes,  and  the  old  women 
are  only  sorry  that  their  time  is  over.  Isn't  it 
funny?" 

A  family  party  passed  in  front  of  them  —  the 
father,  black-whiskered,  with  the  chest  thrown 
out,  swaggering;  the  mother,  full-outlined, 
acutely  conscious  of  her  white  costume  and  the 
tight,  high-heeled  boots  that  prevented  her  from 
walking  properly;  a  little  boy  and  little  girl, 
grotesquely  attired  like  dolls,  their  legs  tightly 
buttoned  up  in  leather  breeches,  their  small 
wizened  faces  eloquent  of  pampered  peevishness. 

"  Anyhow,"  said  Richard,  looking  rather  dis 
tastefully  at  the  little  people,  "  there  are  children 
here,  and  they,  thank  goodness,  represent  another 
point  of  view." 

"  Another  point  of  view  ?  You  amaze  me, 
Richard.  Can  you  look  at  those  two  little  brats 
and  tell  me  they  are  anything  but  accidents? 
French  children  of  a  certain  class  are  all  either 
accidents,  or  they  are  brought  into  the  world  so 
that  their  mammas  may  have  something  else  to 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         145 

dress  up.  They  then  take  the  place  of  the 
poodles." 

"  Anyhow,"  said  Kichard,  the  more  stoutly  as 
he  felt  his  conviction  giving  way,  "  they  stand 
for  marriage." 

"  The  Parisian  marriage  ?  A  toll-gate  on  the 
route  nationale  of  indulgence?  You  pay  your 
penny,  and  on  you  go ! " 

Eichard  laughed  his  surrender.  "  It's  too  fins 
a  day  to  argue,"  he  said ;  "  but  beware  of  half- 
truths  !  They  lead  to  epigrams." 

They  stayed  there  for  perhaps  an  hour,  absorbed 
in  the  crowd  of  fashion  that  streamed  past  them 
in  the  sunshine,  and  exchanging  comments  on 
the  units  of  that  endless  procession.  Famous 
actresses  and  dancers,  wives  of  ministers,  leaders 
of  fashion,  great  ladies  of  the  world  and  of  the 
half-world,  vied  with  one  another  in  presenting 
the  perfection  of  modern  summer  attire,  and  in 
filling  the  avenue  between  the  green  trees  with 
life  and  color  and  movement  as  they  flashed  by 
in  their  carriages.  The  whir  and  rasp  of  automo 
biles  filled  the  air  with  droning  sound  that  made 
a  background  to  the  nearer  chatter  and  laughter 
of  those  who  strolled  on  the  sidewalk.  Of  the 
thousands  who  walked  and  drove  there,  not  one 
but  had  taken  trouble  to  look  his  or  her  best; 
thousands  of  pairs  of  white  gloves,  so  carefully 
put  on;  thousands  of  coiffures,  that  had  cost  so 
much  time  and  thought  —  and  money ;  thou- 


146  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

sands  of  skirts,  held  in  just  the  same  way,  thou 
sands  of  parasols  at  the  same  tilt,  thousands  of 
wafts  of  perfume  shaken  out  by  the  rustling  dra 
peries —  to  sit  there  while  they  streamed  past 
was  to  feel  as  though  a  huge  scented  billow  of 
foam  and  cloud  and  gossamer  were  forever  roll 
ing  by. 

But  in  this  world  of  appetites,  to  get  one's 
head  above  the  billow  was  to  get  hungry.  Richard 
and  Lauder  strolled  up  the  avenue  to  the  Etoile, 
and  drove  to  the  Boulevard  Bonne-Nouvelle, 
where,  in  order  that  Eichard  might  see  a  bour 
geois  crowd,  they  lunched  among  a  healthy  and 
hungry  Sunday  throng  at  Marguery's.  Hors 
d'ceuvre,  eggs,  fish,  fowl,  salad,  pastry,  cheese, 
dessert,  coffee,  cognac  —  "  How  they  eat !  "  said 
Eichard,  who  was  not  doing  badly  himself. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Lauder,  grimly.  "  Nat 
urally  —  " 

"  Oh,  give  it  a  rest,  Lauder,"  laughed  Eichard. 
"  Not  at  meal-times,  please." 

"  All  right,"  said  Lauder,  solemnly ;  "  but  the 
Frenchman  never  gives  it  a  rest,  not  even  at  his 
meals.  He  doesn't  live  to  eat ;  he  eats  to  live  — 
and  to  live  in  his  own  particular  way;  it  is  his 
own  saying.  That's  why  he  eats  so  well  —  it's 
an  inducement." 

"  I  wonder  why,  if  all  you  say  of  them  is  true, 
the  French  are  such  charming  people." 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE  SANDS         147 

"  Charming  because  they  live  entirely  on  the 
surface." 

"  But  they're  intellectual." 

"  Intelligent,  you  mean." 

"  Creative,  at  any  rate  ?  " 

"  Imaginative,  rather." 

"  Well,  they're  alive,  alert,  vital." 

"  That  is  quite  true.  They  have  all  the  surface 
virtues,  —  intelligence,  imagination,  alertness,  vi 
vacity.  Animation,  in  the  true  sense,  they  have 
not.  Their  lives  are  not  informed  with  mind  or 
soul  at  all." 

Eichard  blew  a  cloud  from  his  cigarette. 

"  You  know,  Lauder,  I  sometimes  think  you'd 
be  all  the  better  for  a  dash  of  French  in  you. 
You  don't  keep  on  the  surface  enough.  Here  am 
I,  not  wanting  to  talk  seriously  at  all,  and  skim 
ming  about  on  the  ice.  You  keep  breaking 
through  into  the  green  depths.  It's  not  fair;  it's 
not  playing  the  conversational  game.  We  are 
either  skating  or  diving  —  we  can't  do  both  at 
once." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  said  Lauder,  feebly.  "  The  same 
element  serves  for  both." 

"Yes,  but  the  equipment  isn't  the  same  for 
both." 

"Weights  on  your  feet  in  both  cases,  my  dear 
Eichard."  Lauder  still  smilingly  struggled  to 
justify  himself. 

"  And  your  head  enclosed  for  diving,  so  that 


148  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

you  can't  hear!  Now  let  us  go,  before  you  say 
anything  else." 

They  walked  into  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens 
until  they  came  to  the  Eue  Lafitte,  that  curious 
fissure  in  the  mass  of  Paris  at  the  end  of  which 
the  Sacre  Cceur  can  be  seen  white  and  imposing 
against  the  blue  sky,  crowning  the  heights  of 
Montmartre.  They  walked  on  through  the  streets 
of  shuttered  business-houses,  into  the  region  of 
small  dwellings,  shops,  and  studios,  arriving  at 
last,  rather  hot  and  weary,  at  the  Eue  Blanche. 

They  were  received  at  the  door  of  Marthe's 
apartment  by  a  demure  and  capable-looking  young 
woman,  with  large  melancholy  eyes,  who  assured 
them  that  Marthe  would  be  ready  in  a  few  min 
utes,  and  invited  them  to  wait  in  the  tiny  ante 
room.  Presently  Marthe  herself  came  in,  in  a 
very  becoming  wrapper;  she  was  in  the  middle 
of  her  toilet,  she  explained,  and  her  friend  Gabie 
was  helping  her.  The  two  men  were  presented 
to  Gabie,  who  divided  her  time  between  enter 
taining  them  with  amiable  and  decorous  conver 
sation,  and  assisting  Marthe  in  various  crises  of 
hair-dressing  and  robing.  There  was  a  great  run 
ning  about  between  the  two  rooms,  and  a  great 
air  of  privacy  and  propriety  maintained,  which 
was  continually  stultified  by  Marthe's  running 
in  in  a  half-dressed  condition,  her  dark  eyes  all 
glowing  with  mischief  and  merriment,  to  pat 
Lauder  on  the  cheek  or  see  that  Eichard  was 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS          149 

comfortable.  Gabie,  with  an  infinite  and  good- 
humored  unselfishness,  kept  herself  carefully  in 
the  background,  and  acted  merely  as  lady-in- 
waiting:  now  sewing  on  a  button,  now  compli 
menting  Marthe  as  she  stood  before  the  mirror 
with  a  serious  mien,  now  running  out  to  buy  a 
veil,  now  keeping  the  visitors  in  a  good  humor, 
deflecting  interest  from  herself  toward  her  friend, 
and  generally  exhibiting  a  perfection  of  good  man 
ners  that  Richard  found  himself  regarding  with 
surprise  in  a  courtezan  —  and  one  of  a  somewhat 
humble  class. 

"  I  feel  like  an  unmannerly  fool,"  he  said  to 
Lauder  once,  while  they  were  alone  for  a  moment; 
"  I  find  myself  regarding  every  evidence  of  good 
taste  or  good  feeling  with  a  kind  of  priggish 
astonishment." 

"  I  know,"  Lauder  answered,  "  I  feel  the  same 
thing  myself.  Of  course  I  don't  believe  you'd 
find  the  dignity  and  wholesomeness  of  life  that 
you  see  here  anywhere  but  in  Montmartre,  in 
women  of  this  class;  and  we've  struck  a  particu 
larly  good  example." 

The  two  girls  came  back  at  this  moment,  Marthe 
in  her  blue  dress  and  hat  with  cherries  in  it, 
Gabie  in  her  plain  black  dress  and  a  straw  hat; 
but  both  dressed  with  an  admirable  precision  and 
restraint  as  to  detail.  The  pretty  domesticity 
of  the  scene  and  Gabie's  charming  disinterested 
friendship  had  pleased  them  so  much  that  they 


150  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

begged  her  to  join  them  in  their  walk.  No:  she 
would  not  think  of  deranging  them;  she  had 
engagements.  But  when  Marthe  added  her  en 
treaties  she  consented,  obviously  with  pleasure 
only  tempered  by  an  extreme  desire  not  to  be 
in  the  way;  and  the  four  set  off  through  the 
sunny  streets  to  climb  the  hill  to  the  Sacre  Coeur. 

It  was  a  merry  little  excursion,  full  of  high 
spirits  and  a  gaiety  which,  if  it  was  a  little  child 
ish,  was  as  wholesome  and  innocent  as  the  sum 
mer's  day.  Everybody  chattered  incessantly;  the 
girls  showed  them  their  little  world  of  Mont- 
martre,  —  the  cafes  where  they  breakfasted  and 
dined,  the  shops  where  they  bought  their  dresses, 
or  where  a  hat  was  to  be  had  for  twenty  francs 
that  looked  equal  to  one  costing  a  hundred  on 
the  Grands  Boulevards.  Richard  walked  behind 
with  Marthe,  and  amused  himself  by  teaching  her 
fragments  of  English  and  watching  her  purse  up 
her  pretty  mouth  in  vain  attempts  to  pronounce 
them.  "  Dites  a  John,"  he  would  say,  indicating 
Lauder,  "  I  love  you  very  much ; "  and  Marthe's 
voice  would  immediately  ring  out  across  the  pave 
ment: 

"  Jeannee !  Jeannee !  Ai  —  loaf  —  you  —  verree 
meutch !  " 

Another  pastime  which  seemed  to  afford  them 
endless  amusement,  and  for  some  mysterious 
reason  endless  difficulty,  was  the  pronunciation  of 
the  name  of  a  famous  American  circus  which  was 


THE   HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         151 

placarded  on  the  walls.  Marthe  begged  to  be 
taught  how  to  say  it,  and  Eichard  would  carefully 
enunciate  "  Buffalo  —  Bill's  —  Wild  West/'  to  be 
answered  slowly  and  painfully  by: 

"Beuflow  Beelsa  wal  — wets!"  "West" 
seemed  impossible;  it  always  came  out  "wets/' 
or  at  the  best  "wests"  or  "zwet;"  and  they  had 
tired  of  the  game  long  before  the  lesson  had  been 
learned. 

They  went  to  a  cafe,  and  the  girls,  to  mark  the 
occasion  English,  drank  afternoon  tea  of  a  weird 
hue  and  flavor.  Eichard,  from  a  similar  sense 
of  environment,  drank  absinthe,  which  Marthe 
insisted  on  preparing  for  him,  teaching  him  how 
to  pour  the  water  drop  by  drop  through  the  sugar 
on  the  perforated  spoon. 

Then  they  went  out  again  into  the  hot  streets, 
now  beginning  to  swarm  with  the  idle  Sunday 
crowd,  and  climbed  again.  They  crossed  the 
bridge  over  the  cemetery.  "  There  is  Gautier," 
said  Marthe  to  Eichard,  pointing  to  one  side, 
"  and  there  are  Berlioz,  Delaroche,  Greuze,  Offen 
bach  —  oh,  so  many,"  pointing  to  another ;  "  and 
there  are  my  father  and  mother;  I  also  shall  be 
here  when  my  time  comes."  She  spoke  in  an 
extremely  matter-of-fact  way,  but  —  perhaps  it 
was  the  absinthe  —  the  idea  of  death  suddenly 
struck  Eichard  as  being  intolerable  on  that  bright 
summer  afternoon.  Yet  he  could  not  help  think 
ing  how  different  the  reality  was  from  the  popular 


152  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

idea  of  the  courtezan's  death  —  the  Hogarthian 
idea  —  with  which  every  circumstance  of  sordid- 
ness  and  disgrace  was  supposed  to  be  associated. 
Marthe  at  any  rate  would  be  sincerely  mourned 
by  good  friends  when  she  went  to  rejoin  her 
father  and  mother.  .  .  .  Richard,  pursuing  a 
somewhat  morbid  fancy,  asked  her  to  take  him  to 
Gautier's  grave;  not  really  because  he  had  any 
particular  curiosity  to  see  it,  but  because  he 
thought  it  would  be  a  strange  and  interesting 
sensation  to  walk  through  a  cemetery  with  this 
little  fille  de  joie;  but  she  showed  herself  much 
more  wholesome  in  this  respect  than  he.  Her 
distaste  for  cemeteries  was  the  reverse  of  morbid; 
it  was  perfectly  healthy. 

"  No,  no,"  she  said,  laughing  at  him,  "  one  does 
not  go  to  such  places  unless  one  is  obliged  to." 

It  was  not  until  after  he  had  left  her  that 
Richard  had  time  to  wonder  at  her  interest  in, 
or  even  knowledge  of,  such  names  as  Delaroche 
and  Berlioz;  and  he  considered  how  long  one 
might  hunt  in  London  for  a  cocotte  of  the  humble 
class  who,  passing  Westminster  Abbey,  would  be 
interested  or  able  to  take  one  in  and  point  out  the 
monuments  of  Addison  and  Handel.  But  of 
course,  as  Lauder  had  said,  Marthe  and  her 
friends  were  of  a  species  unknown  and  impossible 
in  England. 

They  arrived  at  last  at  the  Moulin  de  la  Galette, 
walked  through  its  toy  gardens  to  the  great  hall 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         153 

where  the  band  was  playing,  and  sat  down  at  a 
table.  They  ordered  the  inevitable  consommation 
and  looked  on  fascinated  at  the  picture  before 
them.  The  whole  place  trembled  to  the  tread 
and  measure  of  thousands  of  dancing  feet;  the 
scene  circled  and  swam  before  their  eyes  as  thou 
sands  of  couples  made  a  revolving  circuit  of  the 
great  building,  or  eddied  in  smaller  circles  about 
one  part  of  it.  There  was  no  sound  but  the  per 
sistent  rhythm  of  the  band,  with  the  soaring 
melodies  and  languishing  cadences  of  the  waltz, 
the  heavy  dull  beat  of  all  the  feet  on  the  ground, 
the  prolonged  swish  and  whisper  of  the  women's 
dresses.  A  slight  dust  rose  from  the  floor,  and 
there  was  a  faint  odor  of  warm  human  bodies  and 
raiment.  It  was  a  scene  of  communal,  almost 
of  domestic  pleasure;  the  sunshine  streaming 
through  the  high  windows  in  the  roof  lit  up  the 
gay  dresses  of  the  people  of  Montmartre,  their 
husbands,  fathers,  sisters,  lovers,  mothers,  sweet 
hearts;  family  groups  made  holiday  together; 
mamma  danced  with  little  Pierre,  while  papa, 
dressed  in  his  best,  dandled  the  baby;  husbands 
and  wives  danced  together,  with  a  serious  eager 
ness,  as  of  people  who  intended  to  make  the  most 
of  their  holiday.  Yet  through  the  whole  scene 
there  went  a  wave  of  the  gaiety  without  which  no 
Parisian  entertainment  is  complete;  and  the 
brighter  dresses  of  the  cocottes  scattered  here  and 
there  among  the  vast  crowd  wove  into  its  sombre 


154  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

fabric  a  symbolic  thread  of  joy.  It  moved  and 
changed,  now  appeared,  now  was  lost;  in  one 
vietf  you  would  see  nothing  but  the  black  coats 
and  hats  of  the  men,  the  dark  skirts  of  the 
mothers  and  sisters;  and  suddenly,  as  though  a 
breeze  had  stirred  the  human  surface,  you  would 
get  another  view,  and  the  whole  assembly  would 
appear  in  a  shimmer  of  love,  shot  with  the  many- 
colored  draperies  of  pleasure.  The  movement  of 
the  whole  threw  a  garment  over  its  many  gro 
tesque  elements  —  men  dancing  in  black  tail-coats 
and  billycock  hats  are  not  beautiful  objects  —  and 
invested  it  with  a  quality  that  fascinated  the  on 
lookers.  The  swaying  and  circling  tide  that 
flowed  around  the  room,  the  pretty  heads  floating 
above  the  maze  of  turning  bodies,  the  faces  flushed 
with  pleasure  and  exertion,  the  half-parted  lips 
and  sparkling  eyes,  the  drooping  and  soaring  of 
the  continuous  music  —  these  all  made  for  beauty ; 
and  the  intent  and  absorbed  air  of  the  dancers 
added  a  touch  of  something  like  solemnity.  While 
the  music  lasted,  it  was  as  though  a  charm  hung 
over  the  room  that  set  heads  nodding  and  feet 
twinkling  to  the  happy  fleeting  measure;  as 
though  a  magic  invisible  piper  were  throwing  a 
spell  over  the  great  miscellaneous  throng  and  bind 
ing  their  feet  to  his  dropping  notes.  And  when 
the  music  stopped  the  spell  snapped,  the  charm 
broke,  and  the  rhythmic  mass  became  a  jostling 
crowd  again,  laughing,  chattering,  quarrelling, 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         155 

shouting,  bantering,  pushing  toward  the  tables  or 
making  for  the  cool  breeze  on  the  terraces. 

The  party  from  the  Eue  Blanche  had  not 
danced.  The  girls  had  been  quite  happy  in  ex 
hibiting  themselves  to  their  acquaintance  in  the 
company  of  two  undeniable  gentlemen,  while 
Eichard  and  Lauder  were  absorbed  in  the  unique 
charm  of  the  spectacle,  at  which  they  could  have 
remained  gazing  for  hours.  But  at  the  end  of 
a  dance  they  too  went  out-of-doors  into  a  cooler 
atmosphere,  and  they  sat  down  on  a  bench  over 
looking  the  ramparts  of  the  sham  mill.  Paris 
lay  spread  out  below  them  like  a  bird's-eye  map, 
its  roofs  shining  in  the  afternoon  sun,  its  towers 
and  spires  dotted  about  the  great  area  of  human 
habitation;  and  far  to  the  south  the  Seine  shone 
and  twisted  through  it,  like  a  silver  snake. 

Eichard  talked  to  Marthe,  for  whom  he  was 
beginning  to  have  a  feeling  of  affection  and  com 
radeship  that  he  was  not  unwilling  to  mistake  for 
something  else;  but  he  was  by  nature  an  epicure 
—  a  Puritan  epicure  —  and  he  wished  to  be  delib 
erate.  He  had  but  one  article  of  morality  in  such 
a  matter  —  that  realization  should  be  a  tribute 
paid  to  affection,  and  never  a  false  prophet  of  it; 
he  was,  moreover,  secretly  a  little  ashamed  of  aban 
doning  the  fine  philosophic  enjoyment  of  the  situ 
ation,  which  he  shared  with  Lauder,  for  a  more 
commonplace  pleasure.  In  all  these  ways  he  was 
younger  than  his  years.  Lauder,  on  his  part, 


156  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

was  entirely  happy  in  a  serious  impersonal  conver 
sation  with  Gabie  as  to  her  occupations  and  man 
ner  of  life.  She  was  an  inconspicuous  dancer  at 
the  Folies  Bergeres,  where  she  earned  thirty  francs 
a  week;  she  added  to  this  meagre  income  as 
opportunity  served,  but  she  did  not  profess  to 
like  her  supplementary  profession.  Domesticity, 
Lauder  could  see,  was  the  ideal  of  her  life.  Self- 
respecting  and  capable  as  she  was,  she  took  a 
philosophic  view  of  the  situation.  "  I  do  not  like 
it,"  she  said  with  a  smile,  "  but  neither  do  I  like 
starving;  it  is  hard  enough  nowadays  for  a  girl 
who  respects  herself  to  earn  a  living,  and  one 
must  not  complain."  Her  satellite  affection  for 
Marthe,  whom  she  regarded  as  a  gay  and  beautiful 
creature  for  whom  the  highest  gifts  of  Fortune 
were  hardly  good  enough,  was  charming  in  its 
singleness  and  simplicity.  "Ah,  but  she  has  a 
good  heart,"  she  said;  "we  are  the  greatest 
friends."  And  indeed  Marthe  was  no  less  de 
voted;  she  looked  around  often  to  see  that  Gabie 
was  being  entertained,  and  evidently  wished  for 
nothing  that  could  not  be  shared  with  her;  in 
a  word,  it  was  as  pretty  a  picture  of  mutual  kind 
ness  and  comradeship  as  you  could  wish  to  see. 

"  Marthe  is  charming,"  said  Lauder,  as  the  two 
men  walked  away  after  taking  leave  of  the  girls 
at  their  door,  "but  my  heart  aches  for  that  poor 
brave  child  Gabie.  Not  a  ruffle  on  her  counte- 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         157 

nance,  you  notice  —  nothing  but  smiles  and  a 
brave  face;  but  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  she 
has  sometimes  not  enough  to  eat.  Thank  God 
she  has  a  friend !  " 

They  had  parted  in  the  greatest  friendliness 
and  affection.  Marthe  had  taken  them  to  her 
heart  merely  as  comrades,  and  projected  all  sorts 
of  innocent  excursions.  "  The  worst  of  it  is," 
said  Lauder,  "  we  can't  waste  their  time." 

"  That's  rather  a  ghastly  thought,"  said  Rich 
ard;  "you  mean  they  can't  afford  innocent 
friendship  ?  " 

"  Innocent  be  hanged :  they  can't  afford  to 
spend  their  time  with  people  who  don't  pay  for 
it.  You  saw  how  they  treated  us :  it  would  have 
been  a  serious  offence  if  we  had  proposed  presents 
in  any  shape  or  form." 

"  That's  what  comes  of  your  philosophic  atti 
tude,  Lauder;  I  don't  think  it's  quite  fair." 

"  It's  all  right  if  we  don't  overdo  it.  But  I 
think  I  heard  you  making  an  appointment  for 
Tuesday  ?  "  Richard  grew  red.  "  Well,  it's  your 
own  lookout,  but  I  think  it's  always  a  mistake  to 
push  these  things  too  far.  You've  skimmed  the 
cream,  as  far  as  Marthe  is  concerned;  you'll 
never  be  so  happy  with  her  as  you  were  pottering 
about  the  streets  this  afternoon.  Why  not  leave 
it  at  that?" 

"  Oh,  I've  no  patience  with  your  damned  cold 
blooded  cynicism !  I  don't  think  it's  quite  whole- 


158  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

some.  If  Marthe  is  worth  knowing  at  all  (and 
personally  I  think  she  is),  she's  worth  knowing 
well,  and  treated  as  a  human  being,  and  not  as 
a  specimen.  I  suppose  you'll  lay  her  out  in  your 
mental  museum  of  demi-mondaines,  label  her 
'Marthe,  Montmartroise :  Summer,  1902,'  and 
forget  all  about  her  ?  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  shall  be  able  to  tell  you 
all  about  her  when  you  say  a  month  hence: 
'  Marthe  ?  Let  me  see,  who  was  Marthe  ? '  But 
don't  let  me  interfere  with  your  romance ;  Heaven 
forbid !  I  only  envy  you  your  thoroughness." 

"  The  worst  of  the  philosophic  mind  is  that  it 
sometimes  forgets  to  be  human,"  said  Kichard, 
as  they  were  crossing  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens. 

But  it  was  Lauder  who,  when  he  got  back  to  his 
room  in  the  hotel,  slipped  two  hundred-franc 
notes  into  an  envelope,  and  addressed  them  to 
Gabie,  at  the  little  flat  in  the  Eue  Blanche.  And 
all  he  wrote  within  the  envelope  was :  "  A  ma 
brave  petite  atriie." 


Ill 


RICHAED  spent  the  next  day  immersed  in 
professional  affairs  at  the  offices  of  the  en 
gineers  who  were  constructing  the  Snail  lighting 
apparatus;  Lauder  was  revisiting  some  studio 
haunts  in  the  neighborhood  of  St.  Germain  des 
Pres;  and  the  two  men  did  not  meet  until  eve 
ning,  when  they  sallied  forth  together  in  search 
of  dinner. 

"  Now,  where  shall  we  go  ? "  asked  Lauder. 
"  Cafe  de  Paris,  Durand's,  Paillard's  ?  All  excel 
lent  and  gay." 

"  Let's  go  to  a  quiet  place,"  said  Kichard,  on 
whom  the  day's  occupation  had  had  its  effect; 
"  I'm  a  little  bit  tired  of  the  gilded  world.  Let's 
go  where  we  won't  see  any  cocottes." 

"  Let  me  see,  then."  Lauder  stood  meditating. 
"  Voisin's  —  no,  we'll  go  to  Noel  Peters,  and  dine 
in  peace  and  quietness." 

They  walked  up  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens,  then 
beginning  to  stir  with  the  evening  traffic  of  diners 
and  pleasure-seekers,  and  were  soon  discussing  an 
excellent  dinner  —  light,  brief,  but  full  of  distinc 
tion  and  character  —  such  as  Lauder  knew  well 
159 


160  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

how  to  order.  The  service,  deft  and  sober,  melted 
one  course  into  another  imperceptibly ;  the  Saint- 
Marceaux,  dry,  crisp,  and  of  a  famous  year,  tingled 
pleasantly  on  the  palate;  the  Sauce  Bercy  was 
memorable;  and  by  the  time  the  two  friends  had 
lit  their  long  thin  cigars,  and  had  taken  their 
first  sip  of  a  fragrant  old  brandy,  the  mellowing 
influences  of  good  wine  and  good  cooking,  of  the 
evening  hour,  of  distant  footfalls  and  voices  in 
the  street,  of  the  flowers  and  lights  within,  and 
of  that  sober  and  sacramental  sense  which  friend 
ship  takes  on  in  these  golden  and  congenial  mo 
ments,  had  wiped  softly  away  from  the  tablets 
of  Richard's  mind  all  professional  interests,  and 
had  once  more  warmed  him  into  the  appetite  for 
more  human  studies. 

Toward  ten  o'clock  they  strolled  out  into  the 
cool  streets,  and,  without  discussion  or  word 
spoken,  turned  their  steps  northward.  They  were 
both  in  a  mellow,  meditative,  and  philosophic 
mood,  a  little  fastidious  of  the  world,  and  inclined 
to  be  revolted  by  too  close  contact  with  it.  Phi 
losophy  such  as  theirs,  however,  mellow  gale 
though  it  be,  must  have  something  to  blow  against 
if  it  is  to  be  savored;  and  they  turned  into  the 
Boite  a  Fursy,  that  strange  little  theatre  in  the 
Rue  Pigalle,  whose  walls  once  sheltered  the  fa 
mous  Chat  Noir. 

The  stuffy  little  room  was  crowded,  the  uncom 
fortable  benches  thronged  with  a.  mixed  crowd  that 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         161 

listened  with  rapt  attention  to  the  impassive  ut 
terances  of  an  elderly  man  with  a  pale,  dyspeptic 
face,  who,  without  voice,  eloquence,  gesture,  or 
facial  intelligence,  was  singing  a  comic  song.  He 
stood  alone  on  the  little  stage,  accompanied  by  an 
invisible  pianist;  and  his  melancholy,  impassive 
visage  added  to  the  delight  of  the  audience  in  the 
really  funny  conceits  of  his  song.  Je  ne  sais  pas, 
je  ne  sais  pas,  went  the  eternal  jog-trot  of  the 
refrain;  but  the  art  of  the  invisible  pianist  em 
broidered  the  dreary  plain-song  with  harmonic 
graces  that  fell  startlingly  on  Eichard's  ear.  He 
was  a  musician  by  nature,  and  something  of  a 
pianist;  he  would  walk  ten  miles  any  day  to  hear 
Siloti  or  Busoni;  but  this  improvised  accompani 
ment  to  a  music-hall  song  had  a  quality  of  genius 
that  was  entirely  new  to  him.  He  forgot  the 
singer,  the  words;  he  heard  only  that  wonderful 
rippling  rush  of  harmonies,  the  pearly  counter 
points  strung  around  the  ignoble  air,  the  pauses, 
hesitations,  shakes,  imitations,  cadences  with 
which  the  invisible  accompanist  made  tolerable  to 
himself  his  mean  task.  What  fallen  genius,  Kich- 
ard  wondered,  was  there  immured,  like  a  captive 
bird  in  a  cage,  and  singing  to  himself  in  his  cap 
tivity?  And  yet  he  remembered  to  have  heard 
tales  of  men  who  had  so  fallen  in  love  with  the 
life  of  this  strange  quarter  that  they  had  gladly 
forsaken  the  world,  buried  themselves  in  Mont- 
martre,  and,  like  monks  that  take  a  vow,  dedicated 


162  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

their  lives  to  the  service  of  its  intimate  pleasures; 
and  he  wondered  if  the  great  harmonist,  the 
splendid  dreamy  improvisateur  behind  the  curtain 
were  indeed  some  such  happy,  wine-sodden  vestige 
of  a  man. 

When  the  pale-faced  singer  had  finished  Fursy 
himself  appeared  (looking  very  like  the  German 
emperor  in  his  turned-up  moustache),  and  en 
chanted  the  audience  with  a  string  of  his  political 
songs.  Through  them  all  the  accompanist  kept 
up  his  ripple  of  inexhaustible  melodic  invention, 
modulating  between  the  songs  like  a  cathedral 
organist,  gracing  them  with  a  wealth  of  ornament, 
of  shy,  fugitive  counter-themes  and  graces,  such 
as  made  a  poem  in  tone  of  the  meanest  of  them. 
Then  the  curtain  descended  and  every  one  ad 
journed  for  beer  and  cigarettes  to  an  adjoining 
grotto  —  a  sordid  place  only  redeemed  by  the 
gracious  presence  of  Fursy,  who  shone  in  it  like 
a  good  deed  in  a  naughty  world,  and  distributed 
smiles  and  recognitions  like  a  prince. 

"  Let's  get  out  of  this  monkey-house  atmos 
phere,"  said  Lauder,  who  had  been  less  amused 
than  Eichard  by  the  political  songs.  They  walked 
slowly  up  to  the  Place  Pigalle,  passing  on  the  way 
an  open,  lighted  doorway  leading  to  some  base 
ment  premises,  and  surmounted  by  an  occulting 
sign  which  displayed,  in  alternate  red  and  white 
lights,  the  words  "  Nox  Bar." 

"  What's  a  Nox  Bar  ?  "  asked  Richard, 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE  SANDS         163 

"I  haven't  an  idea;   you'd  better  go  and  see." 

There  was  a  porter  standing  at  the  door,  al 
though  no  one  was  coming  out  or  in;  and  the 
empty,  luminous  oblong  of  the  doorway  had  a 
sinister  appearance.  They  passed  the  porter,  who 
smiled  curiousty,  and  (they  thought)  a  little  de 
risively,  and  went  down  a  very  steep,  narrow,  and 
somewhat  ill-sinelling  staircase.  Richard's  nos 
trils  took  alarm.  "  I  don't  like  this  —  hullo ! 
another  turning/'  as  the  steep,  winding  stairway 
gave  place  to  a  long  narrow  passage  turning 
sharply  to  the  right.  Richard  sniffed. 

"This  doesn't  amuse  me,  Lauder;  the  atmos 
phere  takes  me  by  the  throat.  Now  is  our  time. 
Shall  we  turn  this  corner,  eat  of  the  tree  of 
knowledge,  and  discover  the  sinister  mystery  of 
the  Nox  Bar;  or  shall  we  turn  tail,  and  breathe 
the  air  of  heaven  again  unburdened  by  its  se 
crets?" 

"  I've  a  very  shrewd  idea  now  what  its  secret 
is  —  and  it's  pretty  ordinary  and  sordid.  Let  us 
return  in  innocence."  And  they  turned  tail  and 
ascended  the  stairs  again,  passing  the  porter  (who 
now  openly  laughed)  and  emerging  into  the  cool 
dark  air  of  the  street,  where  Richard  breathed 
deeply. 

"Nothing  would  induce  me,"  he  said,  looking 
at  the  blank  lighted  doorway,  "to  reenter  that 
place;  it  is  delightful  to  have  a  mystery  unex 
plored.  But,"  he  continued,  standing  in  the 


164  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

middle  of  the  street  and  looking  up  at  the  sign, 
"  I  like  their  group-flashing  light ;  I  must  in 
clude  it  in  the  book  of  sailing  directions  for  Paris 
which  I  am  compiling.  '  Mariners  proceeding  on 
a  north-going  tide  through  the  Eue  Pigalle 
should,  especially  if  a  sheet  in  the  wind's  eye, 
keep  the  Nox  Bar  light  well  on  the  starboard  hand 
to  clear  the  Taberin  eddies  and  the  Fursy  shoals. 
The  Nox  Bar  two  points  on  the  starboard  bow 
leads  clear  of  all  dangers  into  the  Place  Pigalle, 
where  there  is  abundance  of  water  and  good  an 
chorage  at  the  Eat  Mort.  The  red  sector  of  the 
Nox  Bar  light  shows  foul  ground  to  the  north 
ward,  and  the  narrow  channel  of  the  Eue  Houdon 
should  on  no  account  be  attempted  at  night  with 
out  a  pilot.  Vessels  going  southward,  even  if 
deeply  laden,  may  stand  in  to  the  Nox  Bar  light, 
as  the  ebb-tide  will  carry  them  clear  of  all  dan 
gers.  It  is  high- water  at  the  Eue  Pigalle,  full 
and  change,  at  three  hours  forty  minutes,  after 
which  the  ebb  sets  southward  into  Paris.'  How's 
that?" 

"Excellent,"  laughed  Lauder.  "I  think  your 
nautical  survey  of  Paris  would  be  welcomed  by 
many  a  jaded  reveller,  if  you  could  guide  him  by 
lights.  You'd  better  send  in  at  once  a  '  Proposal 
for  the  Erection  of  Lighthouses  on  the  Principal 
Dangers  of  Paris.'  It  would,  at  any  rate,  have  a 
success  as  a  moral  tract.  Where  are  we  going 
now?  It's  too  early  for  the  Eat  Mort." 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         165 

"  Let  us  look  in  at  the  Tabarin,"  said  Kichard. 
"  We  shall  probably  see  Marthe  there,  and  Gabie, 
perhaps;  and  I  see  there's  a  Gala  Ball  on." 

The  great  hall  had  to-night  an  appearance  quite 
unlike  the  Bohemian  gaiety  which  it  wore  on  their 
former  visit.  It  was  now  packed  with  a  crowd 
of  dancers  in  fancy  dress,  while  the  gallery  was 
thronged  with  people  sitting  at  tables,  or  throw 
ing  streamers  of  colored  paper  down  into  the 
arena.  From  every  side  a  network  of  these  flimsy 
ribbons  floated  down,  were  entangled  in  the  dan 
cers,  broke,  and  added  to  the  sea  of  paper  already 
on  the  floor,  a  sea  which  steadily  rose  about  the 
feet  of  the  dancers  in  spite  of  the  labors  of  the 
attendants  with  brushes.  Nearly  all  the  men 
were  smoking;  and,  if  it  had  been  a  church 
bazar  instead  of  the  Bal  Tabarin,  the  very 
thought  of  the  lighted  match  dropped  on  that 
acre  of  paper  and  chiffon  would  in  itself  have 
been  enough  to  create  a  panic.  But  in  this  light- 
hearted,  light-headed,  absorbed  company  there 
were  no  fears  and  no  precautions;  and  God  or 
the  devil  (which  you  will)  looked  after  his 
own. 

The  two  men  wormed  and  elbowed  their  way 
through  the  crowd  toward  a  corner  of  the  bar 
where  there  was  a  little  free  space.  In  the  centre 
of  the  hall  dancing  was  impossible,  so  tightly 
packed  was  the  throng,  and  the  band  fiddled  and 
drummed  in  vain.  The  room  was  merely  a  shell 


166  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

packed  like  a  shrapnel  with  human  fragments, 
and  in  the  heat  and  glare,  and  stifling,  oppressive 
atmosphere,  it  seemed  amazing  that  the  very  walls 
were  not  rent  asunder  and  the  roof  lifted  off  by 
the  expansive  forces  of  the  crowd. 

"  I  begin  to  be  a  little  disgusted,"  said  Lauder; 
and  indeed  to  a  detached  observer  the  hectic,  arti 
ficial  gaiety  of  the  place  could  hardly  fail  to  be 
repellent.  The  silliness  of  the  paper  streamers, 
and  the  yells  of  those  who  threw  them,  had  a  kind 
of  lunatic  horror  for  a  mind  not  loosened  into 
sympathy;  and  the  cheap  and  tawdry  costumes 
of  girls  hired  by  the  place  to  behave  with  as  much 
madness  and  shamelessness  as  the  crowd  might 
desire  looked  only  dreary  and  sordid  amid  the 
dust  and  heat  and  odors  of  the  place.  Richard 
turned  wearily  away  from  the  crowd,  and  caught 
sight  of  two  very  pretty,  refined-looking  girls  sit 
ting  together  before  the  bar.  It  was  part  of  his 
attraction  that  he  could  always  interest  himself 
immediately  and  whole-heartedly  in  whatever 
pleased  him;  and  as  he  had  an  insatiable  curi 
osity  for  the  human  side  of  this  world  in  which 
he  found  himself,  he  was  no  sooner  pleased  by 
the  sight  of  these  faces  than  he  decided  to  explore 
what  lay  behind  them.  It  is  not  the  least  charm 
of  the  world  of  pleasure  that,  although  it  has  its 
etiquette,  it  has  no  merely  vexatious  restrictions; 
and  in  two  minutes  Eichard  was  engaged  in  a 
polite  conversation  with  these  ladies,  who  were 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE  SANDS         167 

good  enough  to  refresh  themselves  with  orangeade 
and  cigarettes  at  his  expense. 

Charming  as  they  were  to  look  upon,  however, 
their  conversation  was  disappointing,  or  Eichard 
was  not  fortunate  in  leading  it  into  productive 
channels.  He  lacked,  as  he  complained  to  Lauut^, 
that  particular  kind  of  conversational  effrontery, 
that  exact  shade  of  brusqueness,  which  is  under 
stood  to  be  successful  with  barmaids;  and  the 
mortification  of  seeing  his  refined  courtesies  neg 
lected  in  favor  of  some  gross  and  hearty  pleasan 
try  was  not  unfamiliar  to  him.  He  made  the 
mistake  of  treating  all  women  alike,  and  had  not 
learned  that  a  barmaid  is  far  from  flattered  at 
being  treated  like  a  countess.  In  this  case,  the 
conversation,  polite  and  highly  decorous  as  it 
was,  flagged;  the  ladies  appeared,  in  some  mys 
terious  way,  to  be  on  the  defensive;  and  the  one 
to  whom  Eichard  more  particularly  addressed 
himself  scrutinized  him  from  time  to  time  with 
a  puzzled  air.  She  was  a  singularly  beautiful 
girl,  tall  and  slim  and  fair,  with  fine  aristocratic 
features  and  cold  gray  eyes;  she  was  of  an  Eng 
lish  or  Irish  rather  than  a  French  type,  although 
she  spoke  nothing  but  French,  and  that  in  the 
manner  of  the  Belgians.  Eichard  was  beginning 
to  look  anxiously  at  the  level  of  the  orangeade  in 
the  glasses,  and  to  seek  for  a  graceful  means  of 
withdrawal,  when  he  felt  a  warm  little  hand  on 
his  arm. 


168  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

He  turned  around.  "  Ah,  Marthe !  "  he  said, 
delightedly,  for  he  was  honestly  glad  to  see  her 
again ;  "  we  thought  we'd  lost  you."  And,  Lauder 
joining  them,  they  fell  into  conversation  about 
the  ball,  Eichard  now  and  then  turning  around 
and  exchanging  a  remark  with  his  fair  friend. 
Marthe  hung  upon  his  arm,  and  looked  up  into 
his  eyes,  with  a  devotion  pleasantly  embarrassing. 
She  seemed  to  Eichard,  indeed,  to  be  making  an 
undue  demonstration  of  ownership ;  but  it  was  far 
from  being  displeasing  to  him.  Amid  all  the  dust 
and  noise  and  confusion  of  the  great  room  she 
seemed  to  create  a  little  corner  of  warmth  and 
friendship,  she  was  so  familiar  and  pretty  and 
domestic. 

Presently  Eichard,  turning  to  address  the  fair 
Belgian  in  some  agreeable  commonplace,  found 
himself  received  with  a  cold  stare.  He  thought 
she  had  not  heard  him,  and  repeated  his  remark; 
but  the  cold  gray  eyes,  now  lit  with  a  rather 
wicked  glitter,  regarded  him  blankly.  He  was 
puzzled  and  embarrassed,  and,  after  explaining 
to  Lauder  in  English  what  had  happened,  turned 
again  to  the  lady  and  asked  her  most  politely 
if  he  had  had  the  misfortune  to  offend  her.  He 
said  it  with  his  most  ingratiating  smile,  and 
thinking  she  might  have  resented  his  conversation 
with  Marthe,  explained  that  the  Montmartroise 
was  an  old  acquaintance.  The  girl  made  an  in 
dignant  and  angry  exclamation,  said  something 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         169 

to  her  friend,  moved  away  a  little,  and  continued 
to  regard  Eichard  with  anger.  He  shrugged  his 
shoulders  and  turned  to  speak  to  Marthe;  but 
what  was  his  amazement  to  find  her  pretty  face 
now  transfigured  with  wrath,  and  her  dark  eyes 
directed  flashingly  on  the  Belgian. 

"  In  the  name  of  God,"  he  said,  "  what  is  the 
matter  ?  Are  you  all  bewitched  ?  " 

"  You  were  speaking  to  that  woman  there ! " 
said  Marthe,  indignantly. 

"  But  is  it  not  permitted  to  offer  a  civility  ?  " 
asked  Eichard,  amazed.  "  Lauder,"  he  continued 
in  English,  "come  here  and  get  me  out  of  this; 
I  have  offended  every  one,  and  I'm  as  innocent 
as  a  baby/' 

Lauder  began  to  laugh ;  and  as  he  saw  the  look 
of  rising  hatred  and  anger  on  the  faces  of  the 
two  women,  and  the  look  of  increasing  alarm  on 
Eichard's  countenance,  he  laughed  the  more. 

"It's  all  very  well  to  laugh,"  said  Eichard, 
"but  I  don't  want  to  be  involved  in  a  French 
row ; "  and  the  travelling  Briton  suddenly  looked 
forth  from  his  face.  He  got  up  and  moved  a  few 
yards  away.  Immediately  Marthe  followed  him, 
stood  beside  him  and  took  his  arm,  like  a  lioness 
defending  her  cub  —  or  her  prey;  and  immedi 
ately  the  fair  Belgian  followed  them  also,  and 
resumed  her  watchful  and  belligerent  attitude. 

Lauder  now,  still  laughing,  began  to  talk  to 
the  fair  Belgian's  friend.  "  You  and  I,"  he  said, 


170  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

"are  people  of  the  world,  and  can  conduct  our 
affairs  with  propriety.  What  are  these  children 
quarrelling  about  ?  " 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  He  ought  not 
to  have  addressed  that  woman  when  he  was  with 
us." 

"  But  she  is  a  vieille  camarade"  said  Lander; 
"besides,  it  was  only  for  the  good  motive.  My 
friend  is  virtuous  and  inquisitive;  he  is  also  gen 
erous  and  of  an  amiable  disposition;  he  did  not 
wish  to  occupy  this  lady's  time,  but  merely  to 
offer  her  a  civility." 

The  woman  laughed.  "  They  must  settle  it 
among  themselves,"  she  said.  "  But  I  warn  you, 
Claire  has  a  temper  of  her  own." 

Eichard  was  now  thoroughly  alarmed  and  mis 
erable.  He  sat  between  the  two  glowering  women, 
neither  of  whom  would  speak  to  him,  although 
Marthe  had  her  arm  through  his  in  an  attitude 
of  affection  which  was,  under  the  circumstances, 
ironical.  If  he  offered  a  remark,  neither  deigned 
to  notice  it,  but  they  fixed  each  other  with  their 
eyes  across  him  in  a  highly  alarming  manner; 
while  Lander's  unrestrained  laughter  in  the  back 
ground  seemed  to  him  both  foolish  and  dangerous. 
Presently  he  saw  the  fair  Belgian  make  a  move 
ment  with  one  of  her  hands,  and  perceived  with 
dismay  that  she  held  in  her  clenched  fist  a  pair  of 
scissors.  The  movement  was  instantly  answered 
by  Marthe,  whom  he  also  saw  to  be  clasping  some 


THE   HOUSE    ON    THE   SANDS          171 

instrument.  The  perspiration  broke  out  on  his 
forehead,  and  signalling  to  Lauder,  he  acquainted 
him  with  this  formidable  development.  He  still 
laughed,  much  to  Eichard's  anger. 

"  It's  no  use,  my  dear  Eichard,  I  can't  help  it ; 
you  look  so  funny  and  miserable  sitting  between 
these  two  spitfires.  This  is  what  comes  of  being 
virtuous.  Dangerous?  Of  course  it's  dangerous, 
but  we  won't  make  it  any  better  by  looking 
frightened.  I've  said  all  I  can  to  the  other 
woman;  but  you've  evidently  offended  one  of  the 
canons.  Try  to  get  Marthe  away,  and  I  will  try 
to  divert  madame's  attention." 

It  was  not  easy,  for  the  two  women  stared  at 
each  other,  motionless  and  with  fixed  eyes,  like 
cats  about  to  fight;  but  presently  Lauder  ad 
dressed  the  Belgian,  and  said  he  desired  to  offer 
an  explanation.  She  moved  off  with  him  a  little 
way;  and  immediately  the  unhappy  Eichard  drew 
Marthe  away  into  the  crowd,  where  her  deadly 
attitude  relaxed,  and  she  smiled  upon  him  once 
more.  "  The  knife  was  only  for  fun,"  she  said, 
producing  a  small  open  penknife;  but  Eichard 
persuaded  her  to  confide  it  to  his  keeping,  nor  did 
he  breathe  freely  until  it  was  safe  in  his  pocket. 
He  took  Marthe  to  the  "Village  Fair"  in  the 
basement,  where  they  sat  in  a  quiet  corner,  and  he 
bought  her  flowers,  and  had  her  fortune  told,  and 
lavished  boxes  of  sweetmeats  upon  her;  and  she 
nestled  up  beside  him  and  became  the  familiar 


172  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

delightful  comrade  of  the  former  day.  He  wanted 
not  to  leave  her;  but  she  had  an  appointment 
which  she  was  obliged  to  keep.  Otherwise  Eich- 
ard's  destiny  might  have  been  different;  as  it 
was,  he  saw  her  go  with  genuine  disappointment, 
and  could  not  even  then  help  admiring  the  un 
relenting  worldly  wisdom  with  which  she  went 
to  keep  an  engagement  distasteful  to  her. 

He  made  an  appointment  with  her  and  said 
good-by  in  the  belief  that  they  would  meet  soon; 
but  as  it  fell  out,  he  was  destined  not  to  see  her 
again.  Through  the  mazes  of  the  ball  she  passed 
out  of  his  life  as  lightly  as  she  had  entered  it, 
like  a  leaf,  blown  by  the  wind  through  the  open 
window,  that  circles  around  you  for  a  moment 
and  then  floats  out  again.  Yet  she  left  a  lasting 
impression  on  his  mind,  entirely  sweet  and  un 
spoiled. 

He  met  Lauder,  who  had  also  disentangled  him 
self. 

"  Now  for  Heaven's  sake  let  us  get  out  of  this," 
said  Eichard.  "  No  more  New  Arabian  Nights 
for  me.  The  '  Adventure  of  the  Fair  Belgian ' 
is  quite  enough.  Besides,  I'm  sick  of  this  sordid 
place  —  aren't  you?" 

"  I'm  quite  ready  to  go,"  said  Lauder,  "  and 
rather  hungry  after  this  excitement;  let  us  go 
and  have  supper  at  the  Eat  Mort." 

It  was  but  a  few  steps  up  the  street,  and  they 


THE  HOUSE  ON   THE  SANDS         173 

were  soon  sitting  at  a  corner  table  of  the  restau 
rant  on  the  first  floor,  dividing  their  attention 
between  supper  and  the  other  occupants  of  the 
room,  which  was  L-shaped,  and  had  a  small  bar 
at  the  end  of  the  arm  nearest  the  door.  The  place 
was  not  crowded,  but  was  gradually  filling  up  with 
couples  in  evening  dress  —  obviously  not  of  the 
local  world.  Around  one  of  the  pillars  near  the 
door  was  grouped  the  red-coated  band,  playing 
from  memory  the  inevitable  music  of  popular 
dances. 

"  This  is  one  of  the  most  curious  restaurants 
in  the  world,"  said  Lauder ;  "  it  is  different  things 
at  different  hours  of  the  day  and  night.  You 
can  dine  in  this  room,  almost  alone,  and  most 
excellently;  you  have  the  attentions  of  the  chef 
and  the  chief  maitre  d'hotel  almost  exclusively  to 
yourself.  Down-stairs,  the  world  of  Montmartre 
dines  liberally  but  indifferently  for  2  fr.  50;  up 
stairs,  from  eleven  till  two,  the  gay  Parisienne 
and  her  cavalier  drop  in  to  supper;  you  see  they 
are  beginning  to  drop  out  now.  After  two,  the 
Eat  Mort  becomes  quite  a  different  place.  A  cer 
tain  few  distinguished  cocottes  —  distinguished 
in  many  different  ways  —  and  their  friends  come 
on  here,  and  the  restaurant  resolves  itself  into  an 
informal  club.  You'll  see  presently.  They  are 
beginning  to  arrive  from  Maxim's  now." 

A  change  was  gradually  taking  place  at  the 
tables.  The  nondescript  and  miscellaneous  were 


174  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

melting  away,  and  being  replaced  by  guests  more 
expensively  dressed,  more  distinguished,  better- 
looking.  The  shy  couples  who  had  been  sitting 
looking  into  one  another's  eyes,  or  holding  one 
another's  hands  under  the  tables,  gave  place  to 
gay  and  pretty  women,  who  came  in  with  an  air  of 
proprietorship,  sent  their  wraps  away  to  the  cloak 
room,  and  settled  down  in  all  the  glory  of  dia 
monds  and  charming  costumes,  as  though  they 
did  not  intend  to  move  for  some  hours.  These 
girls  were  attended  by  men  of  the  cosmopolitan 
stamp  that  Eichard  had  noticed  at  Maxim's  — 
good-looking,  rich,  and  well-groomed,  but  nearly 
all  weary  and  dissipated.  With  this  hour  —  the 
hour  that  in  the  world  of  nature  under  the  calm 
skies  is  heralded  by  such  sweet  and  tender  changes 
and  stirrings  —  a  change  also  came  upon  this 
scene  of  subverted  life  and  pleasure.  The  golden 
tide  of  money,  impalpable,  invisible,  swept  into 
the  room;  in  the  very  atmosphere,  in  the  air 
Eichard  breathed,  he  was  aware  of  a  change,  knew 
that  he  drew  a  deeper  inspiration  of  this  spark 
ling  and  dangerous  element;  and  as  the  tide 
rose  higher  it  loosened  a  little  the  conventions  of 
the  place,  and  raised  to  a  higher  level  the  limits, 
never  very  severe,  of  restraint  and  formality. 
And  yet  a  kind  of  false  decorum,  a  travesty  of 
the  social  rule,  reigned  over  this  company  of 
social  outlaws;  hosts  and  guests,  though  essen 
tially  buyers  and  sellers,  fell  into  the  usages  of 


THE   HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         175 

hospitality,  and  the  one  subject  tabooed  in  con 
versation  was  the  origin  and  purpose  of  their 
presence  there. 

The  dark-eyed,  smiling  musicians  played  their 
valses  and  mazurkas,  the  waiters  hurried  hither 
and  thither,  the  champagne  corks  flew,  the  flowers 
and  jewels  shone  in  the  soft  red  light,  and  lovely 
eyes  sparkled  in  fair,  tired  faces ;  and  as  the  ciga 
rette  smoke  began  to  coil  into  the  air  the  pitch 
of  conversation  rose  a  little.  Greetings  and  bad 
inage  were  shouted  across  the  room;  now  a  girl 
would  get  up  and  cross  to  another  table,  and  sit 
down  for  a  moment  on  some  one's  knee;  now 
some  woman  who  had  been  sitting  quietly  and 
decorously  with  her  friend  would  get  up  in  all  her 
formal  paraphernalia  of  grande  toilette,  picture 
hat,  gloves,  and  jingling  handful  of  gold  purses 
and  chains  and  toys,  and,  lifting  high  her  costly 
skirts,  float  and  pirouette  for  a  minute  or  two 
down  the  centre  of  the  room.  A  girl  whom 
Lauder  had  pointed  out  to  Eichard  at  Maxim's 
as  the  principal  model  of  a  famous  dead  artist 
sat  at  a  table  between  two  men,  an  arm  around 
the  neck  of  each.  She  was  altogether  devoid  of 
formal  beauty,  for  her  features  (with  the  excep 
tion  of  her  lovely  eyes)  were  insignificant  and 
irregular;  but  she  was  exquisitely  made,  and  the 
pose  of  her  small  head,  and  the  alluring  inclina 
tion  with  which  it  floated  above  her  shoulders, 


176  THE   SANDS    OF   PLEASURE 

gave  her  a  charm  and  distinction  peculiar  to  her 
self. 

Suddenly  she  leaned  over  one  of  the  men  beside 
her,  and,  with  a  languorous  and  abandoned  ges 
ture,  laid  her  lips  on  his.  In  a  moment  the  other 
man  had  leaped  up,  overturned  the  table,  which, 
with  its  load  of  glass,  china,  plate,  food,  and  wine, 
went  crashing  to  the  floor,  and  stood  over  her  in 
an  ugly,  threatening  attitude,  trembling  and  shak 
ing  with  passion,  and  livid  with  rage.  For  a 
second  the  movement  of  the  room  crystallized  into 
rest ;  for  a  second  Eichard  saw  it,  paralyzed,  petri 
fied,  as  though  some  angel  of  destruction  had 
turned  all  those  painted  figures  into  stone.  The 
glasses  hung  midway  between  table  and  lips,  the 
knives  and  forks  rested  in  the  air,  the  bows  of 
the  fiddlers  lay  motionless  on  the  strings  in  the 
middle  of  a  bar,  the  feet  of  the  dancers  hung  in 
the  air;  for  a  second  the  whole  room,  tables, 
guests,  waiters,  bandsmen,  were  like  the  dead 
effigies  in  an  exhibition.  As  quick  as  thought  the 
girl  went  up  to  the  man  where  he  stood  shaking 
with  passion,  put  her  hands  on  his  shoulders,  and, 
with  exactly  the  same  languorous  grace,  closed 
her  heavy-lidded  eyes,  and  laid  her  lips  on  his. 
The  spell  was  broken,  and  his  face  relaxed  into 
foolish  surrender.  Instantly  sound  and  movement 
broke  forth  again  in  the  room,  the  band  resumed 
its  playing  in  the  midst  of  the  interrupted  bar, 
the  clatter  of  knives  and  forks,  of  talk  and  laugh- 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         177 

ter,  was  resumed ;  and  the  smiling  and  unshocked 
waiters  removed  the  debris.  The  incident  had 
happened  and  passed  in  the  space  of  a  few  sec 
onds;  it  was  absolutely  disregarded  by  the  com 
pany;  and  Richard  realized,  with  something  like 
terror,  the  brutality  and  shocking  suddenness  of 
the  affair,  and  the  ignoble  part  played  by  the  man 
who  had  caused  it. 

"  Things  are  waking  up,"  said  Lauder,  cheer 
fully  ;  "  but  that  is  not  a  usual  incident  here. 
The  man  is  evidently  not  an  habitue." 

Just  at  that  moment  Richard  caught  sight  of 
a  daintily  clad  figure  on  the  other  side  of  the 
room,  and  of  a  face,  under  a  broad  hat  of  roses 
and  lace,  that  seemed  familiar.  She  was  at  a 
table  facing  him,  on  the  other  side  of  the  room, 
and  she  was  jumping  up  and  down  in  her  seat  and 
clapping  her  hands  like  a  child  at  a  feast.  As 
he  looked  at  her  she  met  his  eye  and  recognized 
him;  and  in  another  minute  she  had  run  across 
the  room  and  given  a  hand  each  to  Richard  and 
Lauder. 

"  Oh,  here  you  are !  I  been  looking  for  you  — 
oh,  so  long !  We  have  had,  oh,  such  a  good  time ! 
My  dear,  I  give  you  my  vord,  I  never  laugh  so 
much  in  all  my  life!  But  look  here,  don't  sit 
over  here  —  come  over  to  my  table  —  do  come/' 

"But  look  here,  Toni,"  said  Lauder,  "you 
have  a  man  with  you;  we  can't  come  to  your 
table." 


178  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

"  Oh,  don't  be  silly,  my  dear  —  he's  nobody ! 
He  was  sitting  there  when  I  come  in,  and  he  want 
me  to  have  supper  with  him,  but  really  I  am  quite 
alone.  Listen,  I  tell  you  somesing,"  and  her  eyes 
sparkled  as  she  leaned  over  them :  "  He  say  to 
me,  '  My  dear,  I  love  you  very  much ;  if  you  will 
come  and  see  me  I  give  you  fife,  ten  pounds.'  I 
look  very  grave  and  I  say :  '  Sank  you  veree 
much/  I  say,  ( but  I  never  see  so  much  monies  at 
vonce  in  all.  my  life ;  it  is  too  much  for  me,  my 
dear.  I  could  not  think  of  taking  it.'  But  how 
I  laugh !  Poor  boy,  vhen  I  tell  him  I  refuse  tree 
thousand  francs  only  last  night,  he  nearly  go  off 
in  fits.  But  come  along,  and  we  will  sit  and 
amuse  ourselves." 

"Let  us  go,"  said  Eichard;  and  they  trans 
ferred  themselves  to  the  other  side  of  the  room, 
near  the  band,  where  the  headquarters  of  gaiety 
were  situated.  Toni's  companion,  a  shy,  dull- 
looking  Scotsman,  moved  off  of  his  own  accord, 
with  a  gay  greeting  from  her,  and  the  bill  for 
her  supper  and  his  own.  The  meal  was  only  half- 
finished;  but  it  was  instantly  cleared  away,  and 
Toni  proceeded  to  order  another. 

""  ficrevisses  —  Oh,  my  dear,  I  love  ecrevisses," 
she  exclaimed,  like  a  greedy  child.  "  And  then  a 
Poulet  Cocotte  Mascotte  —  oh,  so  good !  And 
look  here,  my  dear,"  she  turned  to  Lauder,  "  don't 
let  us  drink  this  stuff  —  I  do  not  like  it,"  point 
ing  to  the  Tisane  provided  by  the  thrifty  Scot 


THE   HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         179 

which  had  just  been  opened ;  "  let  us  have  some 
Katinka,  1884  —  oh,  lovely,  I  give  you  my  vord !  " 
They  were  soon  eating  again,  or  pretending  to, 
Toni  keeping  up  a  rattling  conversation  with 
Lauder  as  to  her  recent  doings.  Eichard  sat 
opposite  listening  to  every  word.  Her  English, 
in  spite  of  its  German-Polish  disguise,  was  pretty 
and  dainty,  and  she  made  it  infinitely  expressive. 
Her  face  had  the  quality  of  childish  clarity  and 
life  that  he  had  noticed  at  first :  it  was  childishly 
eager,  or  childishly  grave ;  only  the  eyes,  as  before, 
contradicted  its  innocence  with  their  deep  golden 
fire,  and  the  little  red  mouth,  alluring  and  repel 
ling  in  its  perversity,  reminded  him  of  a  childish 
vampire  —  childishly  greedy,  childishly  cruel.  She 
was  beautifully  and  expensively  dressed,  though 
obviously  without  anxiety;  she  possessed  a  con 
fidence  and  certainty  in  her  charm  that  dared  to 
be  careless  in  details;  her  jewelry  was  negligently 
worn,  the  safety  of  her  dress  disregarded  in  any 
moment  of  excitement.  She  had  not  that  perma 
nent  preoccupation  about  her  clothes  and  appear 
ance  that  oppresses  so  many  women  of  her  class; 
herself  and  her  enjoyment  of  the  moment  always 
came  first,  her  clothes  second.  Even  her  tawny, 
red-gold  hair  was  not,  like  the  head-dress  of  the 
Frenchwomen  around  her,  elaborately  curled  and 
coiffured;  it  was  coiled  upon  her  forehead,  and 
taken  up  from  her  little  white  neck,  with  an  ap 
pearance  of  carelessness  that  was  very  charming. 


180  THE  SANDS  OF  PLEASURE 

She  was  entirely  without  patience;  if  she  did  not 
hear  what  was  said  to  her,  she  rattled  out  "  Vhat  ? 
vhat  ?  vhat  ?  "  and  was  off  to  some  other  subject 
before  Lauder  had  time  to  reply;  she  spoke  with 
intelligence,  but  listened,  apparently,  with  none; 
and  she  wrinkled  her  forehead  and  moved  her 
head  with  quick  kittenish  movements  that  sug 
gested  a  tireless  and  alert  vitality.  Eichard  felt 
the  atmosphere  around  her  to  be  more  bracing 
and  vital  than  elsewhere;  he  listened  to  every 
word  she  said,  watched  every  quick  movement  of 
her  head,  with  an  absorbed  interest  and  fascina 
tion.  She  was  not  fidgety;  she  had  her  moments 
of  repose,  when  the  slumbering  light  in  her  eyes 
would  leap  into  a  flame  that  seemed  to  resolve  and 
decompose  the  very  elements  of  what  she  was 
looking  at;  and  it  was  this  rapid  alternation  of 
profound  gravity  and  rippling  liveliness  that  gave 
to  her  beauty  so  unique  an  attraction.  She  was 
not,  like  most  of  the  women  there,  seductive  in  a 
merely  animal  or  fleshly  way ;  on  the  contrary,  in 
that  sexual  environment  she  appeared  almost  sex 
less  ;  some  nobler  mystery,  some  subtle  emanation 
of  the  soul,  informed  her  with  its  alluring  spirit. 
Eichard  was  completely  charmed  and  fascinated 
by  her.  She  hardly  seemed  to  notice  him,  although 
she  was  of  course  perfectly  aware  of  his  interest 
in  her;  and  it  was  not  until  she  was  smoking 
a  cigarette  and  sipping  a  glass  of  Grand  Marnier 
that  she  turned  to  him  again. 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS          181 

"  You  like  this  place  better  than  Maxim's  ? 
Yes?  Oh,  Maxim's,  my  dear,  it  is  all  right,  of 
course;  you  see  every  one  there,  but  it  is  mixed, 
my  dear,  very  mixed  —  too  many  sales  femmes 
there.  Here  you  may  do  as  you  like,  and  there 
are  only  friends."  She  looked  at  him  with  a 
friendly  glance  that  was  half  for  his  eyes,  and 
half  for  his  shirt-studs  and  the  cut  of  his  clothes 

—  the  deadly,  perceptive,  unconsciously  apprais 
ing  glance  of  the  born  cocotte. 

"  You  like  my  dress,  vhat  ? "  she  rattled  on, 
inconsequently ;  "  oh,  it  is  nothing,  nothing,  my 
dear.  Paquin  can't  make  this  kind  of  dress  —  it 
is  too  simple  for  him.  You  should  see  another 

—  the  same  color  —  that  Doucet  make  me  last 
year  —  oh,  a  dream,  I  tell  you,  my  dear,  beauti 
ful  !    Vy  you  not  drinking  ?    Vhat  ?    Drink  some 
champagne,  my  dear,  don't  be  silly.    Your  friend 
he  not  drink,  either  ?    Oh,  go  on !    Tell  me,  vhere 
you  staying  ?    Eitz  —  Elysee  Palace  —  vhat  ?    Oh, 
I  tell  you  somesings  funny  —  oh,  so  funny !     I 
never  laugh  so  much  in  all  my  life !    An  old  man 
I  see  at  Folies  Bergeres  last  night  —  oh,  a  very 
chic  old  man,  I  give  you  my  vord,  but  ugly,  dread 
ful,  my  dear ;    he  say  to  me,  '  Toni/  he  say,  '  I 
like  to  call  on  you ;   vhere  you  staying  ? '    I  say, 
'  Oh,  I  am  living  very  quietly,  I  am  not  going 
out/    He  say,  *I  like  to  send  you  some  flowers.' 
I  say,  '  Sank  you  very  much/  I  say.    '  Send  them 
to  Kitz's,  to  Madame  Toni.'    Oh,  how  I  laugh,  my 


182  THE   SANDS    OF   PLEASURE 

dear !  Of  course,  I  am  not  staying  at  Ritz  at  all ! 
I  tell  you,  I  never  laugh  so  much  in  all  my  life !  " 
And  she  rattled  on  without  waiting  for  any  com 
ment  or  interrogation,  nodding  her  pretty,  brilliant 
little  head  energetically  until  the  flowers  in  her 
hat  shook  again. 

A  Spanish  dancer,  engaged  by  the  proprietor  to 
amuse  his  guests,  now  tripped  out  to  the  clatter 
of  castanets  and  began  to  dance.  She  was  a  short, 
dark  creature,  with  a  handsome  face,  raven  hair, 
and  a  beautiful  costume  of  shot  colors.  Richard 
glanced  at  her,  and  then  became  absorbed  in  Toni's 
sudden  regard  of  her.  It  was  not  merely  that  her 
attention  was  caught;  she  was  watching  her  with 
the  courtezan's  respect  and  curiosity  for  a  woman 
who  can  do  something  which  she  herself  cannot 
do.  Her  conversation  stopped,  the  cigarette 
smoked  unheeded  in  her  fingers;  two  faint  verti 
cal  lines  appeared  in  her  forehead,  and  she  fol 
lowed  every  antic  of  the  brave,  gay  dance  with 
intent  eyes,  head  and  eyes  moving  to  follow  the 
dancer's  movement  as  a  kitten  follows  the  flight 
of  a  bird.  When  the  dance  was  over  she  clapped 
her  hands.  "Very  good,  my  dear,"  she  said  to 
Lauder,  and,  calling  the  dancer  to  the  table,  with 
the  vicarious  generosity  of  her*  kind,  made  Lauder 
give  her  a  louis. 

Presently  a  charming-looking  girl,  conspicuous 
for  her  English  look  of  health  and  honesty,  and 


THE   HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         183 

for  her  admirable  (and  very  un-English)  toilet, 
came  up  and  sat  down  at  the  table  with  them. 

"  Let  me  come  and  sit  here,  Toni,"  she  said 
with  a  frown ;  "  I  want  to  get  away  from  that 
man.  Vulgar  beast !  "  she  muttered,  tapping  the 
ground  with  her  foot. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  him  ?  "  asked  Lauder, 
offering  her  a  cigarette.  "  He  looks  all  right." 

"  Cheek !  "  she  said,  indignantly.  "  He  wanted 
to  come  home  with  me !  I  don't  know  what  some 
of  these  people  are  made  of.  I  told  him  I  wouldn't 
let  him  come  home  with  me  for  a  thousand 
pounds/'  And  she  went  on  speaking  with  genuine 
indignation  to  Lauder  on  the  subject  of  people's 
rudeness. 

Richard  began  to  be  a  little  puzzled.  He  had 
always  dimly  pictured  cocottes  as  a  species  of 
harpy,  continually  preying  upon  men;  here  were 
two,  perhaps  the  prettiest  women  in  the  room, 
whose  one  preoccupation  seemed  to  be  to  get  rid 
of  people,  and  to  be  allowed  to  enjoy  life  in  their 
own  way.  With  the  quickness  of  their  kind,  the 
two  women  had  recognized  that  Lauder  and  Rich 
ard  were  for  the  moment  mere  spectators  in  the 
great  game;  and  they  therefore  drew  to  them 
with  flattering  friendliness.  But  why  ?  What  did 
they  want,  if  not  money?  Richard  could  not 
quite  make  it  out;  but  at  this  moment  his  atten 
tion  was  diverted  by  peals  of  laughter  from  some 
adjoining  table.  A  short,  stoutish  Englishwoman 


184  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

of  about  five  and  thirty,  carefully  dressed  in  a 
tight-fitting  white  silk  frock  and  a  clever  hat,  had 
come  out  into  the  cleared  space,  and  was  affecting 
to  dance,  with  movements  purposely  uncouth  and 
grotesque.  She  was  excited  by  wine,  and  pre 
tended  to  be  more  excited  than  she  was ;  and  she 
flung  herself  about  with  all  the  cock-sure  abandon 
ment  of  an  old  music-hall  favorite.  In  spite  of 
the  inevitable  and  even  (to  a  sober  mind)  painful 
disadvantage  of  her  condition,  there  was  some 
thing  hearty,  humorous,  and  not  unwholesome  in 
her  appearance  that  disarmed  offence.  Her  bold 
black  eyes  roved  around  the  room  with  a  Kabe- 
laisian  fearlessness ;  she  had  the  confidence  of  one 
who  knows  human  nature  in  and  out,  and  is 
prepared  to  deal  with  any  emergency  which  her 
conduct  may  create;  and  she  walked  up  confi 
dently  to  a  pretty  French  girl,  and,  taking  up  a 
liqueur-glass  out  of  which  she  was  about  to  drink, 
emptied  it  at  a  draught. 

"  Don't  mention  it,"  she  said  in  a  somewhat 
husky  voice.  "  My  fault  entirely.  I  was  so 
thirsty  I  couldn't  wait.  Keska-say-ka-sah?  Oh, 
I'm  a  divvle  at  Frinch.  Here  waiter,  garsong,  ici, 
comprenney?  Fill  madame's  glass,  and  mind  you 
don't  spill  any.  Keska-say-ka-sah?"  And  she 
went  on  to  another  table,  where  she  fixed  an 
elderly  American,  who  was  looking  on  at  her 
vagaries  with  rather  a  depressed  countenance,  with 
a  stony  stare. 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS          185 

"  What's  your  trouble  ? "  she  asked,  seriously. 
"  You  ought  to  take  something  for  it,  you  know. 
I  wouldn't  let  it  run  on  —  it  might  injure  you." 
And  she  continued  to  bombard  him  with  absurd 
remarks  until  he  began  to  laugh  in  spite  of  him 
self. 

"  There  now,  you'll  feel  better  now.  Never 
hold  it  back.  You've  got  to  get  better  before  you 
feel  worse  —  no,  I  mean  —  I  don't  know  what  I 
mean !  —  keska-say-ka-sah  ?  "  She  began  to  dance 
in  an  ungainly  fashion  about  the  tables,  going 
from  one  to  another,  picking  out  some  guest  and 
apostrophizing  him,  but  contriving  not  to  offend 
anybody  seriously,  and,  in  her  way,  to  amuse  every 
one.  There  was  such  a  complete  good  nature, 
such  an  abandonment  to  playing  the  fool  and  look 
ing  ridiculous  for  the  benefit  of  the  majority,  that 
it  was  difficult  not  to  respond,  and  impossible  to 
be  offended. 

Presently  she  came  to  the  table  where  Lauder 
and  Eichard  were  sitting.  Toni,  who  evidently 
knew  her,  addressed  her  by  the  name  of  Matilda, 
and  told  her  to  sit  down;  and  she  immediately 
fastened  on  Lauder. 

"  Hullo,  I've  seen  that  boy  before,"  she  said. 
"  I  know ;  at  the  old  Alsatians,  in  London."  And 
she  shook  hands  with  him  effusively.  "  Oh,  I 
never  forget  a  face.  That  must  be  ten  years  ago 
at  least  —  keska-say-ka-sah  ?  "  Eichard  was  rather 
alarmed  lest  she  should  direct  her  attention  to 


186  THE   SANDS   OF   PLEASURE 

him,  and  so  make  him  unpleasantly  conspicuous; 
but  she  talked  to  Lauder  in  a  vein  of  reminiscence, 
and  left  Kichard  free  to  pursue  a  fragmentary  but 
somewhat  one-sided  conversation  with  Toni,  whose 
attention  and  glances  wandered  all  around  the 
room.  The  English  girl  Blsa  sat  silent,  or  only 
spoke  rarely  to  Lauder  and  Matilda,  the  irre 
pressible,  in  quiet  and  conventional  tones. 

The  hours  passed  on  imperceptibly  in  that  gay, 
lighted  company,  winged  by  music  and  laughter 
and  fugitive  humors  that  would  have  no  meaning 
or  color  outside  its  hothouse  atmosphere.  The 
little  English-speaking  group  drew  together,  and 
were  pleased  with  each  other;  and  though  Rich 
ard  could  never  tell  afterward  how  the  hours 
passed,  he  remembered  that  he  must  have  been 
absorbed  indeed  not  to  notice  their  passage.  Toni 
occupied  his  attention  wholly,  and  as  much  of 
Lander's  as  could  be  spared  from  the  humors  of 
Matilda  and  polite  conversation  with  Elsa.  No 
one  was  sleepy;  the  fun  kept  up  noisily  around 
them,  the  dancing  went  on,  like  the  music,  untir 
ingly;  and  it  was  with  a  shock  of  surprise  that 
Richard  suddenly  saw  through  a  window  from 
which  the  curtain  had  been  withdrawn  the  ghostly 
blue  of  daylight  slanting  in  upon  the  yellow  glare. 
Long  afterward,  indeed,  he  remembered  that  mo 
ment,  and  the  scene  in  which  it  found  him:  the 
lights,  the  flowers,  the  pretty,  unsubstantial 
dresses,  the  pale  charming  faces,  the  jewels;  and, 


THE   HOUSE    ON    THE   SANDS          187 

most  striking  of  all,  the  picture  of  the  Spanish 
dancer,  with  her  beautiful  tired  face,  and  her  dress 
of  blended  colors,  —  blue,  gold,  orange,  red,  pur 
ple,  —  illuminated  by  the  daylit  window,  and, 
although  surrounded  still  by  the  red  glow  of  elec 
tric  lamps,  touched  by  the  cold  finger  of  dawn. 

"  Here,  boys,"  said  Matilda,  seriously,  to  Eich- 
ard  and  Lauder,  "  what's  the  matter  with  coming 
home  to  our  place,  and  having  a  cigarette  and  talk 
ing  things  over?  It's  only  half -past  four." 

"  Let's  move,  at  any  rate,"  said  Lauder ;  and 
calling  for  the  bills,  which  mounted  in  the  aggre 
gate  to  a  handsome  figure,  he  paid  them  and 
followed  the  little  group  out  of  the  room.  It 
was  daylight,  cool  and  fresh  and  pure,  in  the 
Place  Pigalle ;  and  while  the  chasseur  was  calling 
a  carriage  they  stood  on  the  pavement  in  their 
gay  evening  dresses  in  the  silent  morning,  like 
creatures  derelict,  who  had  drifted  into  a  new  day. 
Elsa  and  Lauder  went  off  first  in  an  open  car 
riage,  while  the  other  three  squeezed  into  a  coupe, 
and  drove  down  into  Paris,  still  talking  volubly 
and  laughing.  They  had  not  been  driving  long 
before  a  diversion  was  proposed  by  Toni,  whom 
nothing  that  was  new,  and  that  was  not  the  thing 
of  the  moment,  seemed  able  to  tire. 

"  Oh,  don't  let  us  go  home  yet,"  she  pleaded. 
"  We  go  to  the  Cafe  Americam  —  such  fun.  Do 
come,  there's  a  good  boy ; "  and  she  turned  to 
Eichard,  who  felt  strangely  pleased  and  flattered 


188  THE   SANDS    OF   PLEASURE 

by  the  direct  appeal  to  him.  Matilda,  however, 
was  adamant  for  once;  and  though  Kichard  was 
in  the  mood  to  follow  willingly  wherever  Toni 
might  lead,  he  added  his  dissuasions  on  the  ground 
of  not  splitting  up  the  party.  He  was  amazed  to 
notice  how  quickly  Toni  acquiesced;  she  seemed 
to  have  forgotten  her  proposal  as  soon  as  it  was 
made.  She  chattered  merrily  until  the  carriage 
drew  up  at  a  hotel  in  the  Eue  de  Calais. 

Eichard  seemed  to  himself  to  have  been  sud 
denly  caught  in  a  tide  which  swept  him  along 
irrespective  of  his  own  wish  or  effort.  The  easy 
friendliness  of  Matilda,  who  treated  him  as  an 
"old  pal,"  and  his  subtle  appropriation  by  the 
wayward  and  beautiful  Toni,  made  him  accept 
everything  that  happened  as  a  matter  of  course 
—  even  the  fact  that  he  was  walking  up  the  stairs 
of  a  Paris  hotel  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning 
with  two  ladies  whose  acquaintance  he  had  made 
since  midnight.  The  hotel  was  a  shy,  quiet  place ; 
one  of  those  accommodating  French  hostelries  in 
which  surprise  is  an  unknown  emotion,  and  where 
the  habit  of  asking  no  questions  is  practised  as 
a  high  art.  They  stole  quietly  up-stairs  to  the 
first  floor,  and  entered  the  room  to  the  left.  The 
curtains  were  closely  drawn  so  as  to  exclude  the 
daylight,  and  the  electric  lights  were  turned  on; 
Lander  was  sitting  in  his  overcoat  in  an  armchair 
smoking  a  cigarette,  and  Elsa  was  sitting  on  a 
table,  also  smoking,  and  talking  gaily  to  him. 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         189 

"  Here,  let's  sit  down,"  said  Matilda ;  "  make 
yourselves  at  home,  boys,  and  have  a  drink.  No? 
Well,  you're  two  of  the  rummiest  boys  I  ever 
struck.  No  drink,  no  anything;  I  don't  know 
what  you  left  home  for.  Now,  you  with  the 
keska-say-ka-sah  face  "  —  to  Bichard  —  "  give  me 
cigarette,  and  cheer  up.  This  is  what  I  call 
friendly  and  pleasant." 

The  talk  became  general  and  somehow  amusing. 
No  one  seemed  tired  or  sleepy ;  there  was  nothing 
in  the  conversation  either  improper  or  interesting; 
it  was  essentially  empty;  but  a  healthy  human 
curiosity  in  and  attraction  to  each  other  provided 
the  members  of  the  party  with  interest  enough. 
It  was  a  strange  little  group:  Matilda,  frankly 
vulgar,  on  the  spree,  and  yet  with  a  wholesome 
simplicity  of  mind  and  character;  Elsa,  with  the 
manners  of  a  gentlewoman,  brilliant  and  charm 
ing,  and  with  all  kinds  of  little  unspoiled  feminine 
graces  and  unselfishness;  Toni,  young,  cosmopoli 
tan,  spoiled  child,  with  her  wayward  beauty,  vi 
vacity,  intelligence;  Lauder  blandly  interested  in 
every  one,  and  quite  sufficiently  amused;  Richard 
curious,  occupied  with  the  novelty  of  his  situation, 
profoundly  interested  in  Toni. 

As  they  talked  she  suddenly  came  and  sat  down 
on  his  knee,  for  there  was  a  scarcity  of  chairs. 
At  her  touch  his  blood  leaped  with  a  thrill  that 
astonished  his  mind  no  less  than  his  body;  he 
realized  suddenly  how  he  had  been  longing  to 


190  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

touch  her.  There  was  no  special  meaning  in  her 
coming,  except  that  she  wanted  somewhere  to  sit; 
she  rested  on  his  knee  as  lightly  as  a  bird,  and 
talked  animatedly  in  German  to  Matilda,  about 
some  refractory  maid;  but  her  nearness  to  him 
was  exquisite,  and  made  him  happy  in  a  breathless 
and  almost  timid  way.  He  put  his  arm  around 
her,  very  gently  and  lightly,  as  though  he  feared 
to  frighten  her  away;  he  felt  the  warmth  of  her 
limbs  through  the  filmy  dress  she  wore,  and  trem 
bled  at  the  sensation.  She  took  no  notice  of  him 
whatever  —  used  him  simply  as  a  chair ;  yet  he 
felt  unreasonably  happy  and  dignified  by  her  pres 
ence. 

They  spoke  in  low  tones,  out  of  regard  for  the 
slumbering  inhabitants  of  the  hotel.  The  conver 
sation  was  carried  on  chiefly  by  Lauder  and  Toni, 
who  discussed  the  whereabouts  of  acquaintances 
in  the  shifting  world  of  pleasure;  but  Eichard 
hardly  heard  the  conversation.  He  was  conscious 
only  of  Toni,  listened  only  to  her;  and  he  could 
have  wished  the  conversation  to  last  for  hours  if 
only  she  would  stay  where  she  was,  seemingly  un 
conscious  of  his  shy  caresses.  It  was  Matilda  who 
put  an  end  to  it  by  getting  up  and  yawning,  and 
announcing  her  intention  of  going  to  bed,  which 
she  proceeded  immediately  to  do.  The  others  went 
out  laughing  on  to  the  landing. 

While  Lauder  was  saying  good  night  to  Elsa 
on  the  stairs,  Richard  followed  Toni  into  the  room 


THE   HOUSE    ON    THE   SANDS          191 

on  the  other  side  of  the  first  floor.  They  passed 
through  a  small  bedroom,  in  which  Toni's  German 
servant  —  half -nurse,  half-maid  —  was  sleeping, 
and  into  a  larger  room,  much  more  elegant  in  its 
appointments  than  Matilda's.  It  had  plenty  of 
window  space,  there  was  no  luggage  in  it,  and  it 
was  full  of  costly  and  pretty  toys  and  trifles  of 
toilet  gear.  Toni  yawned  and  took  off  her  hat, 
revealing  a  tumbled  crown  of  tawny  hair;  then 
she  went  to  a  side-table  and  took  from  a  little 
white  bottle  a  couple  of  tabloids,  which  she  swal 
lowed  with  a  glass  of  water.  Richard  picked  up 
the  bottle,  which  was  labelled  "  sulphonal."  "  To 
make  me  sleep,  my  dear,"  she  explained.  She 
treated  his  presence  with  complete  unconscious 
ness,  as  though  he  had  been  her  maid  or  a  child. 

Suddenly  he  caught  her  in  his  arms,  and  kissed 
her,  holding  his  face  a  long  while  close  to  hers. 

"  Naughty  boy,  you  are ! "  she  said,  releasing 
herself  and  looking  at  him  with  a  scrutinizing 
smile.  "  But  I  like  you  —  oh,  I  like  you  very 
much,  or  else  you  wouldn't  be  here,  my  dear." 
Her  voice  was  stifled  as  he  caught  her  again  in 
his  strong  arms,  and  pressed  her  lithe  young  body 
close  to  his  own,  kissing  her  again  and  again  on 
the  lips. 

She  drew  away  from  him,  and  looked  at  him 
again  with  that  grave,  intent  scrutiny,  as  of  a 
child  who  has  discovered  a  new  animal  in  a  garden, 
and  waits  to  see  what  it  will  do. 


192  THE   SANDS    OF   PLEASURE 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said.  "  Vy  you  like  me  so 
much  ?  " 

He  was  trembling,  and  his  voice  was  husky.  "  I 
think  I  love  you,"  he  whispered. 

"  Oh,  don't  be  silly,"  she  said,  laughing.  "  If 
you  ever  love  any  one,  my  dear,  you  know  it  comes 
not  so  easy  as  that.  But  I  like  you  —  you  are  a 
nice  boy." 

"  0  Toni ! "  he  whispered,  and  strained  her  in 
his  arms  again. 

She  yawned.  "  Not  to-night,  my  dear ;  some 
other  time.  I  see  you  in  the  Eat  Mort,  and  knew 
you  wanted  me  —  oh,  so  badly.  But  not  now,  my 
dear.  Listen;  I  tell  you  somesing.  Some  day 
you  and  I  shall  spend  a  night  together,  and  we 
shall  be  —  oh,  so  happy!  Good  night,  my  dear. 
Don't  make  a  noise." 

He  thrilled  at  her  words,  held  her  close  to  him 
again  while  she  put  up  her  face  for  his  kisses, 
and  went  out,  hardly  seeing  where  he  went. 
Lauder  was  waiting  for  him,  and  together  they 
walked  out  into  the  early  morning  sunshine. 
Eichard  felt  suddenly  tired;  his  mind  was  filled 
with  whirling  thoughts. 


IV 


THEEE  was  a  cool  freshness  in  the  air  as  they 
walked  through  the  sunny  morning  streets, 
clean  and  pure  from  the  floods  of  water  that  had 
been  poured  on  them  in  the  early  hours. 

"  I  have  an  idea,  Richard/'  said  Lauder,  stop 
ping  in  his  walk  as  they  neared  the  hotel.  "  It's 
after  six  o'clock.  What  do  you  say  to  having  a 
bath,  changing,  and  going  out  into  the  country 

—  Fontainebleau,  I  suggest  —  instead  of  going  to 
bed?" 

"  It's  an  idea,  certainly.  I  feel  as  if  I  wanted 
my  head  cleared  after  all  these  hours  in  restau 
rants.  But  —  how  long  should  we  be  away? 
Frankly,  Lauder,  I  want  to  see  some  more  of  our 
friends." 

"  There's  no  reason  why  we  shouldn't ;  we  need 
only  stay  away  for  twenty-four  hours.  Why," 
Lauder  added  with  a  grim  smile,  "  there's  no 
reason  why  you  shouldn't  invite  them  out  to  Fon 
tainebleau  ! " 

"  They  wouldn't  come,"  said  Richard ;  "  besides 

—  well,  let  us  have  some  fresh  air  anyway.    Why 

193 


194          THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS 

shouldn't  we  revisit  your  old  haunts,  and  go  to 
Barbizon?" 

"  A  good  idea.  If  we  hurry  we  can  catch  the 
first  train." 

They  went  back  to  their  hotel;  bathed,  packed, 
and  caught  the  train  with  a  minute  to  spare. 
Soon  they  were  flying  through  the  suburbs  of 
Paris,  with  their  toylike  houses  and  trim  little 
market-gardens.  Lauder  was  busy  with  a  minute 
system  of  accounts  which,  as  he  had  constituted 
himself  paymaster  for  both,  he  felt  bound  to  keep ; 
Eichard  looked  out  at  the  flying  landscape,  and 
thought  with  some  bewilderment  of  the  strange 
hours  through  which  he  had  passed.  He  was  a 
little  jaded,  naturally ;  but  in  his  heart  there  was 
a  kind  of  unreasonable  joy,  as  of  one  who  has 
found  a  perishable  treasure.  The  touch  of  Toni's 
lips  was  on  his  yet,  unfaded;  he  wanted  to  talk 
about  her  to  Lauder,  but  a  certain  shyness  and 
shame  withheld  him.  He  wanted  still  more  to 
realize  within  himself  what  exactly  his  sudden 
interest  in  her  might  mean.  He  was  too  frank 
and  too  fastidious  not  to  realize  that  there  may 
be  a  fascination  of  the  flesh  that  is  entirely  with 
out  relation  to  the  mind  or  the  soul;  it  was  an 
idea  from  which  he  had  always  somehow  recoiled; 
yet  here  was  a  woman  of  whose  mind  or  soul  all 
he  definitely  knew  was  that  she  had  reconciled 
herself  to  the  trade  of  her  body,  and  yet  who  woke 
in  him  a  longing,  a  sympathy,  such  as  no  other 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS          195 

woman  had  ever  inspired.  What  did  it  mean? 
Was  it  the  flesh  alone  that  thus  drew  him  like  a 
magnet?  Or  was  it  the  spirit  that  slumbered  in 
those  mysterious  eyes  of  hers,  that  called  to  his 
as  deep  calls  unto  deep  ?  He  was  by  nature  averse 
from  sentimental  self-delusion;  he  loved  to  call 
things  by  their  true  names,  and  to  douche  himself 
with  the  cold  aspersion  of  facts;  he  tried  to  say 
to  himself :  "  You  may  give  the  thing  a  finer 
name,  but  your  sensuality  has  merely  been  awak 
ened  by  a  woman  whose  business  and  trade  it  is 
to  make  such  awakenings;  desire  her  if  you  will, 
but  do  not  sentimentalize  about  her,  or  deceive 
yourself  that  ideal  love,  that  rare  flower  that 
blooms  in  the  soil  of  physical  passion,  has  any 
thing  to  do  with  it."  Yet  his  reason  and  his 
heart,  speaking  in  a  rare  unison,  gave  the  lie  to 
this  simple,  trivial  explanation.  The  love  of  the 
flesh  —  yes;  he  recognized  that  he  was  involved 
in  the  love  of  the  flesh,  set  free  from  conventional 
and  moral  preoccupations;  he  saw,  as  in  a  vision, 
the  brief  beauty  and  glory  that  might  be  possible 
for  such  love,  and  saw  also,  but  more  dimly,  its 
inevitable  limitations.  Love!  He  recognized, 
almost  with  amusement,  that  he  was  reckoning  at 
last  with  that  ancient  bogey  of  the  sentimentalists, 
as  he  had  often  thought  it;  and  it  had  come  to 
him  at  last  in  a  pure,  crude  form.  He  looked  out 
of  the  window  at  the  fleeting  landscape,  but  saw 
nothing  of  it;  he  saw  Toni's  face,  now  amid  the 


196  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

lights  and  flowers  of  the  Rat  Mort;  now  averted 
and  indifferent  to  him,  in  the  hotel  in  the  Rue 
de  Calais  while  she  sat  on  his  knee;  now  with 
that  sudden  and  curious  scrutiny  of  her  grave 
eyes  after  he  had  kissed  her. 

And  yet  again  —  perhaps  it  was  nothing ;  only 
a  fever  of  the  blood,  brought  on  by  new  scenes, 
late  hours,  tired  nerves,  the  unwonted  propinquity 
of  a  pretty  woman ;  the  fresh  country  air  and  rest 
would  soothe  and  banish  it.  But  did  he  wish  it  to 
be  banished?  No,  oh,  no!  It  was  a  new  posses 
sion,  a  new  current  in  his  life,  he  prized  it;  and 
dangerous,  difficult  as  he  knew  it  to  be,  he  knew 
also  that  he  wished  to  prolong  and  extend  it,  to 
drink  of  the  cup  that  chance  had  put  near  his  lips 
—  to  drain  it  even  to  the  dregs. 

Lauder  put  away  his  pocketbook.  "  You  owe 
me,  so  far,  friend  Richard,  exactly  thirty-two 
pounds  ten  shillings  —  and  cheap  at  the  money,  I 
think.  Heavens !  how  dissipated  you  look !  Late 
hours  don't  agree  with  you." 

"  Lauder ;  tell  me,  what  do  you  know  about 
Toni?" 

"  Toni  ?  Not  much  more  than  I  told  you  — 
you  ought  to  know  more  yourself  by  now.  What 
I  do  know  is  that  there  is  something  wrong  with 
her;  either  she  is  a  fool,  or  she  has  had  some 
trouble.  If  she  knew  her  business,  she  could  have 
the  pick  of  Europe  at  her  feet,  with  her  beauty, 
temperament,  and  intelligence.  But  I  know  she 


THE   HOUSE    ON    THE   SANDS          197 

had  a  row  with  Prince  Kralowski  at  Aix-les-Bains ; 
and  what  she's  doing  with  those  other  people  (who 
aren't  her  class  at  all)  I  don't  know.  She  ought 
to  have  money  put  away;  I  know  Kralowski  al 
lowed  her  five  thousand  francs  a  week.  She's  a 
perverse  little  devil,  but  very,  very  intelligent, 
I  should  think." 

Eichard  would  have  liked  to  talk  more,  but  the 
train  at  that  moment  drew  into  Melun,  where  they 
got  out,  and  took  the  light  railway  along  the  road 
through  the  forest  to  Barbizon.  It  was  a  lovely, 
cloudless  day,  with  a  breeze  blowing  fresh  from 
the  fragrant  acreage  of  the  forest;  they  felt  a 
purity  and  nimbleness  in  the  air  that  made  a 
luxury  of  each  inspiration.  Jaded  as  they  were, 
they  enjoyed  every  minute  of  the  journey  along 
the  outskirts  of  the  forest,  past  sleepy  Chailly,  by 
the  Angelus  plain  of  Millet,  and,  turning  a  sudden 
corner,  into  the  single  long  street  of  Barbizon. 

For  Lauder  the  place  was  full  of  ghosts.  "  Dear 
me !  "  he  said ;  and  "  dear  me !  "  again  and  again, 
as  they  walked  among  his  old  familiar  haunts. 
Like  a  school  or  college  revisited  after  an  absence 
of  years,  the  place  seemed  to  him  to  have  unac 
countably  dwindled,  to  look  a  little  small  and 
shabby,  and  to  be  inhabited  by  a  meaner  and  less 
noble  race.  The  artistic  glory  had  certainly  de 
parted;  and  where,  in  these  alien  painters  of 
another  generation,  was  there  material  for  the 
witty  and  light-hearted  gatherings,  the  heady  in- 


198  THE   SANDS    OF   PLEASURE 

vigoration  of  youthful  and  artistic  communities 
that  had  glorified  his  earlier  days?  Gone,  he  told 
himself  with  a  complacent  wag  of  the  head;  for 
one  must  still  be  in  the  midstream  of  life  to  say 
"  Elieu,  fugaces "  with  the  requisite  smack  of 
appreciation. 

But  if  its  human  glories  had  departed,  the 
the  crowning  glory  of  Barbizon,  its  wonderful 
sparkling  air,  was  still  to  be  enjoyed ;  and  Lauder 
breathed  it  again  with  a  familiar  gladness.  To 
Eichard  the  whole  place  was  new  and  wonderful; 
the  amazing  brightness  and  whiteness  of  the  vil 
lage  street  in  the  hot  sunshine,  the  glimpses 
through  gateways  into  little  courtyards,  smothered 
with  flowers  and  greenery,  the  long  shuttered 
plainness  of  Millet's  house;  the  silence  and  re 
moteness,  the  world-forgetting  atmosphere  of  the 
place,  its  contrast  with  the  life  of  curtained  rooms 
and  shaded  lights  which  they  had  just  quitted, 
filled  his  mind  to  the  brim  with  unwonted  pleas 
ures.  They  chose  their  rooms  in  one  of  the  de 
tached  pavilions  of  the  Hotel  de  Foret,  where  was 
no  bustle  of  hotel  life,  but  only  windows  opening 
wide  on  the  soaring  trees,  and  plunging  you  at  a 
step  into  the  deep  sea  of  the  forest.  They  un 
packed,  lunched  in  the  open  air,  and  strolled  out. 
From  the  world  of  the  village  to  the  world  of  the 
forest  was  but  a  step;  one  moment  they  were 
under  the  open  sky  in  the  hot  sunshine  of  the  vil 
lage  street,  where  the  tramway  engine  hissed  and 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         199 

bubbled ;  the  next,  the  forest  had  swallowed  them 
up,  and  they  trod  an  enchanted  floor,  sunk  in  a 
cool  submarine  twilight,  with  the  wind  and  the 
sunshine  a  hundred  feet  above  their  heads. 

The  magic  of  forests,  and  of  this  forest  in  par 
ticular,  is  a  theme  well- worn;  but  like  so  many 
things  familiarized  in  language  it  remains  ever 
new  and  strange  in  fact.  Like  so  many  others 
before  them  these  two  wandered  off  over  the 
sparkling  sand,  beneath  the  network  of  the  pines, 
and  found  their  worldly  interests  hushed  and 
themselves  solemnized,  like  revellers  who  should 
have  strayed  into  a  cathedral.  And  now  fatigue, 
pleasant  fatigue  of  mind  and  body,  began  to 
fall  upon  them;  nature  put  in  her  plea  for  the 
repayment  of  the  advances  they  had  been  drawing ; 
and  on  a  slope  of  sand  carpeted  with  pine-needles 
they  lay  down  to  sleep  in  the  noontide  quiet.  The 
forest  rolled  away  in  dim  distances  about  them. 
The  few  rays  that  filtered  down  through  the  leafy 
roof  trod  softly  on  the  moss,  as  though  they  feared 
to  awake  some  hidden  life  with  their  sun-kiss. 
Shy  and  sweet  in  these  twilit  recesses  teemed  the 
forest  life,  in  silence  only  broken  by  a  rustle  of 
underwood  or  by  a  single  startled  note  from  a  bird 
that  had  dived  below  the  tree-top  surface,  where, 
far  above  him,  the  song  of  his  mates  mingled  with 
the  surflike  murmur  of  branches.  Distant  voices 
echoed  and  answered  one  another  through  the 
green  aisles,  or  sounded  in  laughter  that  seemed 


200  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

to  hover  and  ring  in  the  air  like  the  stroke  of  a 
bell.  These  elfish  noises  grew  dimmer  and  more 
mingled  together  in  Richard's  ears  as  the  curtain 
of  sleep  dropped  slowly  down  about  him;  they 
set  fairy  thoughts  loose  in  his  mind,  while  the 
forest  cast  its  spell  upon  him.  Be  not  afraid,  the 
isle  is  full  of  voices,  he  murmured  to  himself, 
half-awake,  half-dreaming,  with  his  last  conscious 
effort;  and  then  he  fell  into  deep  sleep.  Lauder 
had  dropped  off  before  him ;  and  while  they  slept 
the  busy  invisible  army  of  nature's  workmen  in 
that  place  took  possession  of  their  bodies,  sweep 
ing  out  the  dross  of  cities,  extracting  from  their 
blood  the  poverties  and  impurities  of  the  crowded 
world,  and  pouring  into  their  veins  piire  and  vig 
orous  life  from  the  inexhaustible  reservoirs  of  the 
forest  air.  Sweet  alchemy  of  sleep  and  of  leafy 
places!  How  many  tired  bodies  have  not  been 
rested  and  refreshed  beneath  the  magic  shades  of 
Fontainebleau ;  how  many  tired  and  soiled  minds 
have  not  found,  in  the  vastness  of  that  vigorous 
solitude,  a  tonic  and  renewing  influence!  Slum 
ber  beneath  roofs  may  repose  the  flesh;  if  we 
would  restore  the  spirit  there  must  be  some  space 
of  oblivion  under  stars  and  trees,  where  in  mys 
tery  and  absence  from  the  body  the  soul  may  take 
her  rest  and  refreshment. 

Lauder  was  the  first  to  awake.    He  came  to  him 
self  in  mid-afternoon,  all  trace  of  fatigue  gone, 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         201 

and  yet  with  a  pleasant  drowsiness  still  lingering 
in  his  blood.  Richard  slept  on,  soundly  but 
lightly;  and  as  Lauder  did  not  wish  to  wake  him 
he  drew  a  note-book  from  his  pocket,  and  began 
to  sharpen  his  pencil.  The  old  habit  of  the  place 
was  upon  him;  in  his  sleep  it  had  returned,  so 
that  there  now  lay  upon  his  mind  some  shadow 
of  the  old  torment  of  creation.  He  looked  about 
him  for  a  subject;  considered,  and  obviously  re 
jected,  the  sleeping  Richard;  and  then  settled 
down  with  an  abstracted  look,  his  pencil  working 
uncertainly  at  first,  and  then,  as  his  hand  remem 
bered  its  craft,  more  boldly  and  surely.  The 
sketch  finished,  he  sat  for  awhile  in  thought;  and 
then,  turning  a  page,  began  to  write. 

When  Richard  awoke  the  afternoon  was  far 
through.  He  lay  quiet  for  awhile  after  he  had 
opened  his  eyes,  collecting  his  thoughts,  and  tast 
ing  the  sense  of  renewal  and  refreshment  with 
which  his  sleep  had  endowed  him.  Presently  he 
stretched  himself  and,  turning  to  Lauder,  became 
aware  of  his  occupation. 

"  What  have  you  got  there  ?  I  thought  you 
were  still  asleep." 

"  Something  for  you.  Wait  a  minute.  I've 
nearly  finished  — '  Scaffolding  of  death '  —  that 
will  do,  although  it's  a  bit  cruel.  Now  tell  me  if 
I  haven't  been  drawing  your  dreams  ?  " 

Richard  took  the  book  and  flushed  as  he  looked 


202  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

on  its  open  page.  For  there  was  the  face  of  his 
thoughts  —  Toni's  face,  happily  commemorated  in 
pencil.  The  sketch  had  the  success  of  such  things 
done  in  haste  and  confidence;  it  had  the  clever 
reticence  of  the  hand  that  knows  how  far  it  can 
trust  itself  to  be  explicit,  and  how  far  it  must 
merely  suggest;  Lauder  would  not  have  been 
ashamed  to  sign  it  in  his  Paris  days.  It  was  Toni 
thoughtful;  leaning  her  chin  on  her  hand,  her 
brow  wrinkled  a  little  under  the  great  drooping 
hat,  her  eyes  absorbed  in  scrutiny;  a  memorable 
and  arresting  face  —  a  face  to  love  and  weep  for. 
Lauder  watched  Eichard  narrowly  as  he  gazed 
on  it,  his  lips  parted,  his  breath  held.  "  Now  look 
over  the  page/'  he  said. 

He  had  written  there  a  translation  into  words 
of  his  portrait  —  an  almost  equally  successful 
sketch,  although  in  a  medium  less  familiar  to 
him.  Eichard  turned  the  page  and  read: 

"  Radiant "  would  be  your  first  word  on  seeing 
her  seated  in  the  Rat  Mart  at  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning.,  in  her  Doucet  gown  and  her  Lewis  hat, 
and  her  tawny  hair  smouldering  in  the  feverish 
light  of  the  lamps.  Gay,  too,  with  a  childish 
gaiety  and  pleasure  in  the  lights  and  the  wine,  the 
dances,  the  food,  and  the  music  —  pleasure  as  of 
a  child  who  claps  hands  at  sight  of  a  feast  spread 
in  her  honor.  Yet  for  all  her  youthful  gaiety,  you 
will  often  wonder  if  she  is  more  than  pretty. 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         203 

Warm  is  her  vital  animation,  wonderful  are  her 
golden  oblique  eyes,  fair  is  her  skin;  but  she  has 
a  bad,  vampire  mouth,  and  the  little  tongue  shoots 
out  to  moisten  the  scarlet  lips  too  often.  Yet  if 
you  catch  one  of  her  rare  moments  of  repose,  the 
cloud  of  gravity  and  thoughtfulness  that  some 
times  hovers  for  an  instant  on  her  brow,  you  will 
know  that  she  is  beautiful,  with  a  rare  and  rather 
a  tragic  beauty.  In  thought  and  desire  she  is 
always  ahead  of  the  moment,  as  in  talk  she  is 
always  behind  it;  the  present  has  no  attraction 
for  her,  and  she  is  on  that  account  exasperating 
and  unsatisfactory  to  fugitive  lovers.  But  for 
those  who  study  her  and  attain  her  with  patience 
she  has  doubtless  her  own  strange  rewards.  Way 
wardness  and  perversity  play  about  her  like  sum 
mer  lightning,  that  flower  of  inaudible  thunder. 
She  will  and  she  won't.  She  loves  the  atmosphere, 
the  trappings,  the  tubes  and  palettes  of  her  art; 
its  practice  hardly  interests  her  at  all,  except  in 
rare  moments  that  suggest  a  morbidity  better  left 
unexplored.  She  lies  passionately  about  noth 
ing  at  all,  and  is  on  such  bad  terms  with  the 
truth  that  she  and  it  do  not  recognize  each 
other. 

Yet  —  you  come  back  to  her  crown  of  youth,  her 
animate  harmony  with  the  fountain-song  of  life, 
the  lithe  felinity  of  her  body,  the  grace  of  her 
wild,  swift  movements,  the  vital  glory  that  smoul 
ders  in  her  eyes;  and  the  touch  of  her  skin,  silk 


204  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

and  velvet  of  the  rose-petal,  will  cling  to  your  lips 
long  after  the  memory  of  her  cruel  mouth  has 
faded. 

Laugh,  my  little  Toni,  and  dance  yet  while  your 
sun  shines!  The  three  black  ravens  hover  over 
your  happiness;  and  ah!  how  close  behind  your 
face,  fair  with  the  fairness  of  love  and  the  flesh, 
lies  the  dusty  scaffolding  of  death. 

Lauder  saw  him  smile  a  little,  and  wince  a  little, 
as  he  read;  when  he  had  finished  he  turned  back 
to  the  pencil  sketch,  and  looked  for  some  time 
at  it. 

"  Wonderfully  good,"  he  said,  quietly.  "  Won 
derfully  good.  But  —  how  do  you  know  so  much 
about  her?" 

"  Know  ?  I  know  nothing  except  what  any  one 
can  see  who  spends  some  hours  in  her  company. 
She  is  your  discovery,  Eichard;  I'm  afraid  I 
never  took  much  notice  of  her  until  I  saw  her 
through  your  eyes.  But  she  improves  on  acquaint 
ance.  There's  a  certain  lithe  grace  — " 

"  How  did  you  know  about  —  the  touch  of  her 
skin  ? "  said  Eichard,  still  looking  at  the  sketch. 

"  Guesswork,  my  dear  boy ;  and  I'm  glad  to 
see  it  was  such  a  good  guess.  My  dear  Eichard, 
how  delightfully  young  you  are  —  I  believe  you 
are  blushing ! " 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Eichard  with  a  smile.  "  But, 
joking  apart,  Lauder,  I  do  not  in  the  least  mind 


THE   HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         205 

telling  you  that  I  am  profoundly  interested  in 
the  creature;  I  can't  get  her  out  of  my  head.  I 
think  her  quite  one  of  the  most  attractive  and 
remarkable  women  I  have  ever  seen.  I  know  noth 
ing  about  her  life,  and  I  don't  think  I  want  to. 
She's  not  an  ordinary  —  well,  I  mean,  she  doesn't 
—  she's  not  like  —  " 

"  She  is  certainly  not  promiscuous ;  and  she  is 
not  to  be  confounded  with  all  those  amiable  ladies 
at  Maxim's.  At  the  same  time,  there's  something 
of  the  gamine  about  her;  she  is  ready  to  sacrifice 
appearances  and  dignity  for  amusement  at  any 
moment.  If  you  really  want  to  be  kind  to  her, 
give  her  a  lecture;  tell  her  to  leave  those  people, 
and  go  and  take  rooms  at  Eitz's,  or  some  first-rate 
place,  and  never  be  seen  without  a  companion. 
She  is  much  too  young  to  be  on  her  own,  and  too 
clever  and  successful  to  mistrust  herself.  Tell 
her  —  " 

"  I  don't  think  I  should  much  care  to  talk  to 
her  about  it." 

Lauder  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  No  use  blink 
ing  facts,  old  chap.  It's  not  nice,  I  admit;  it 
would  be  intolerable  in  connection  with  any  one 
you  cared  about.  That's  why  I  always  keep  to 
mere  acquaintance  and  surface  friendships  with 
such  people."  He  looked  narrowly  at  Richard. 
"  I  know  what  you  want ;  you  want  me  to  advise 
you  to  take  her  as  your  mistress.  Wait  a  minute," 
he  went  on,  as  Richard  began  to  speak.  "  In  the 


206  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

first  place,  you  couldn't  afford  it;  in  the  second, 
neither  of  you  would  be  happy  —  you'd  want  to 
marry  her,  or  some  damned  nonsense  of  that  sort ; 
in  the  third,  I  don't  quite  see  how  she  would  work 
in  with  pierres  perdues,  balance  cranes,  and  the 
Holy  Blessed  Trinity.  I  think  the  old  sea-dogs 
at  Deptford  would  have  something  to  say." 

Eichard  was  looking  far  away  through  a  blue- 
green  glade  of  the  forest.  "  If  she  loved  —  "  he 
began;  and  then  stopped,  looking  grave. 

"  And  if  she  did,  would  it  be  quite  fair,  do  you 
think?  The  point  of  honor  is  naturally  an  un 
familiar  one,  but  it's  there  all  the  same.  Kemem- 
ber  you  are  dealing  with  a  topsyturvy  world, 
where  every  social  rule  is  inverted.  Honorable 
intentions  in  a  case  like  this  don't  mean  love,  or 
hearts,  or  a  life's  devotion,  or  any  emotional  stuff 
of  that  sort ;  they  mean  money.  Here  is  a  woman 

—  not  of  the  class  that  sells  herself  promiscuously 
or  strikes  bargains  beforehand,  but  who  is  willing 

—  well,  let  us  say  to  take  a  liberal  view  of  conduct 
in  the  case  of  any  one  she  likes,  the  condition 
being  that  he  shall  support  her  in  that  state  of 
luxury  and  extravagance  to  which  it  has  pleased 
God  to  call  her.    Where  does  the  lover  come  in? 

—  the  lover,  moreover,  who  doesn't  intend  even 
marriage  —  and  remember  that  she  would  despise 
marriage  —  where  does  he  come  in,  with  his  idylls 
and  heart's  devotion?     Believe  me,  there  is  no 
room  for  him." 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         207 

"  Damn  it,  Lauder,  your  knowingness  wearies 
me  sometimes.  Because  a  woman  has  adopted 
that  way  of  life,  do  you  pretend  she  has  no 
heart?" 

"  It's  you  who  weary  me,  Eichard,  mixing  up 
facts  with  sentiment.  Don't  you  see  that  she 
mustn't  indulge  her  heart  at  the  expense  of  her 
profession?  Don't  you  see  that  it  is  the  one  lux 
ury  that  she  can't  afford,  because  it  is  the  one 
luxury  that  no  one  will  pay  for  ?  A  girl  like  Toni 
has  deliberately  chosen  to  take  her  love,  or  what 
stands  for  it,  into  the  market;  and  she  is  far  too 
sensible  not  to  see  that  she  can't  have  it  both  ways ; 
or,  if  she  didn't  see  it,  a  man  who  should  try  to 
make  her  believe  that  it  was  possible  would  be, 
to  say  the  least  of  it,  damned  unfriendly." 

"  I  think  in  any  case,  my  dear  Lauder,  we're 
getting  a  little  far  from  the  facts.  There's  no 
question  of  Toni's  falling  in  love  —  or  of  mine 
either,"  he  added  with  a  touch  of  bravado ;  "  and," 
he  added,  turning  to  Lauder  with  a  smile,  "you 
and  I  aren't  even  going  to  pretend  to  fall  out  on 
any  question  of  the  sort.  I  bow  absolutely  to  your 
experience  and  discretion.  But  now  I'll  tell  you 
what  I  propose.  I  like  Toni  —  she  interests  us 
both;  we  like  Elsa  too;  I'm  sorry  for  those  poor 
girls  stuffing  in  Paris  this  hot  weather;  and  I 
propose  to  telephone  or  wire  to  them,  and  ask 
them  out  here  to  spend  the  day.  We  can  natter 
them  with  a  gorgeous  lunch,  the  fresh  air  will 


208  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

do  them  a  lot  of  good,  and  I  think  it  would  be 
amusing  to  study  them  in  this  environment." 

"  Anything  you  like/'  said  Lauder,  genially. 
"  They  won't  come,  but  that's  a  detail.  And  it 
amuses  me  greatly  to  observe  how  quickly  you 
have  tired  of  sylvan  solitude ! " 

"  Oh,  rubbish !  I  can  get  that  any  time ;  be 
sides,  those  three  are  too  nice  and  wholesome  to 
damage  the  atmosphere.  Come  along." 

They  walked  back  through  the  cool  twilight  of 
the  forest,  and  out  again  into  the  bright  street. 
The  hotel  in  the  Kue  de  Calais  was  not  011  the 
telephone,  they  discovered ;  so  a  wire  was  carefully 
drawn  up  and  despatched.  There  was  no  small 
difficulty  in  getting  off  so  long  a  wire  in  English 
from  the  little  post-office.  Lauder  regarded  the 
whole  thing  as  an  empty  and  unproductive  jest; 
but  Eichard  was  determined,  and  arranged  all 
details. 

"  I  bet  you  a  sovereign  they  won't  come,"  was 
Lander's  confident  verdict.  "  They  may  say  they 
will  to-night;  but  when  it  comes  to  getting  up  at 
nine  to-morrow  it'll  be  another  story.  They  won't 
have  gone  to  bed  until  five;  and  when  they  call 
her  Toni  will  say :  '  Oh,  no,  my  dear,  I  am 
too  tired,  really.  I  nevex  vas  so  tired  in  all  my 
life ! ' " 

"  Well,  it'll  be  a  test,"  said  Eichard,  smiling  at 
the  probability  of  the  picture.  "  No  harm  if  they 
don't  come;  we  shall  still  enjoy  ourselves.  And 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         209 

now  that  that's  settled,  let  us  dine;  that  sleep  in 
the  forest  air  has  made  me  devilish  hungry." 

They  dined,  for  the  sake  of  Lauder's  associa 
tions,  in  the  long  room  at  Siron's,  still  decorated 
with  the  daubs  of  the  colony,  but  vastly  changed 
since  his  day.  The  clatter  still  went  on,  but  it 
seemed  to  have  a  less  significant  note;  there  was 
less  of  wit  in  the  talk,  less  mirth  in  the  laughter. 
After  dinner  the  piano,  as  of  yore,  was  punished 
by  one  of  the  number,  and  songs  came  forth  with 
the  pipes  and  the  villainous  brandy;  but  they 
were  even  less  tolerable  as  music,  and  less  con 
siderable  as  humor,  than  they  had  been  ten  years 
ago.  At  least,  so  Lauder  assured  himself;  but 
when  we  call  up  scenes  of  youth  or  past  enjoyment 
we  summon  a  ghost  who  walks  in  a  glory,  and  in 
whose  footprints  the  flowers  stand  uncrushed. 

They  walked  back  through  a  night  black  and 
starless;  but  presently  the  moon  rose,  and  sent 
slender  and  ghostly  fingers  parting  the  foliage  in 
the  forest.  They  walked  for  a  little  while  in  the 
great  leafy  arcades,  silenced  by  the  charm  of  the 
hour,  drugged  by  the  inimitable  scent  and  fra 
grance  of  the  nocturnal  woodland.  They  went 
early  to  their  rooms  in  the  airy  pavilion  under  the 
trees ;  and  Eichard,  after  he  had  gone  to  bed  and 
put  out  his  candle,  lay  for  a  long  time  looking 
out  of  the  open  window.  Above  him  the  black 
masses  of  the  trees  were  blocked  out  against  the 
silvery  background;  the  village  had  gone  to  bed; 


210  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

it  was  peaceful  with  a  quietness  that  was  far  more 
than  absence  of  sound,  and  had  a  positive  quality 
of  its  own.  Presently,  with  a  clear,  passionate 
thrill  that  floated  on  the  silence  as  the  white 
moonbeams  floated  on  the  velvet  darkness,  a 
nightingale  began  to  sing.  At  first  in  low  piping 
notes  that  dropped  singly  into  the  night;  then 
in  broken  melodic  phrases;  at  last  a  welling 
fountain  of  tone,  endless,  effortless,  like  the  love- 
laughter  of  angels.  The  song  held  him  spellbound 
with  its  utterance  of  rich  unearthly  sweetness; 
it  woke  in  him  a  sense  of  vague  longing,  vague 
sadness;  it  wreathed  him,  as  he  fell  asleep,  in 
charms  and  dreams  that  were  like  ripples  spread 
ing  on  the  eternal  sea  of  silence. 


LAUDER    was    awakened    the    next   morning 
from  a  sound  sleep  by  Richard,  who  stood 
over  his  bed  with  an  open  telegram  in  his  hand. 
"  Read  that,"  he  said,  with  a  note  of  triumph  in 
his  voice. 

It  was  dated  the  night  before,  and  contained 
these  words :  "  All  coming  by  ten  train.  —  Toni." 
Lauder  sat  up,  broad  awake.  "  Heavens !  I  didn't 
expect  this,"  he  said.  He  looked  at  the  telegram 
again.  "'All  coming/  Who,  in  Heaven's  name, 
are  '  all  ? '  Are  we  to  have  an  inundation  from 
Maxim's?  Because,  if  so,  I'm  going  to  sneak  off 
by  the  next  train,  and  leave  you  to  cope  with 
them." 

"  Nonsense ! "  laughed  Richard,  who  was  in 
high  spirits.  "It  only  means  Matilda  and  Els& 
and  Toni.  You  know  how  they  all  stick  together. 
I  can  imagine  the  scene  last  night :  '  I'll  come 
if  you  come;  I  won't  go  unless  you  go/  and  so  on." 

"Yes,    and   I  know   what'll   happen.     They'll 
change  their  minds,  or  miss  the  train  this  morn 
ing;    or  the  other  two  will  catch  it,  and  Toni 
won't  get  up,"  he  added,  mischievously. 
211 


212  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

Kichard  looked  crestfallen  for  a  moment. 
"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I'll  bet  you  a  sovereign  they  all 
three  come.  Anyhow,  you've  got  to  get  up  and 
order  a  luncheon  worthy  of  the  occasion;  and  of 
course  we  must  go  in  to  Melun  to  meet  them." 

At  the  appointed  time  they  were  pacing  the 
platform,  Kichard  pretending  confidence,  although 
with  genuine  misgiving;  Lauder  rehearsing  all 
kinds  of  imaginary  scenes  between  the  three 
women,  and  drawing  vivid  pictures  of  them,  after 
a  late  night  at  the  Eat  Mort,  arriving  cross  and 
peevish,  and  scornful  of  the  rustic  entertainment 
at  Barbizon.  Eichard  hardly  realized  how  eagerly 
he  looked  for  Toni's  coming  until  he  saw  the  train 
heading  for  the  long  platform,  and  felt  his  heart 
leap.  It  drew  in  and  stopped  —  a  long  train.  A 
great  many  carriage-doors  opened  and  discharged 
a  great  variety  of  passengers;  but  among  them, 
alas !  was  no  gay  trio.  The  two  men  walked 
hurriedly  along  the  train,  peering  into  the  car 
riages.  "  They  may  be  asleep,  or  quarrelling," 
said  Lauder,  "  and  not  have  noticed  the  name  of 
the  station."  But  there  was  no  friendly  face  in 
the  whole  length  of  the  train,  and  Eichard  watched 
it  depart  with  a  feeling  of  bitter  disappointment. 

"  And  now  I'll  tell  you  something  to  cheer  you 
up,"  said  Lauder,  taking  his  arm.  "  There's  an 
other  train  in  ten  minutes.  They  are  sure  to  have 
missed  the  first  by  about  a  minute,  as  none  of 
them  speak  French,  and  it  starts  from  a  remote 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         213 

corner  of  the  station;  but  if  they  are  coming  at 
all  (which  I  still  doubt)  they'll  be  in  the  second. 
There  are  the  signals." 

Lauder  proved  to  be  right  in  his  supposition, 
and  wrong  in  his  doubt.  As  the  train  drew  up, 
a  little  hand  was  seen  waving  from  a  distant  car 
riage-window,  and  Toni's  face,  all  smiles  and 
eagerness,  looked  out  along  the  platform. 

"  Now  we  are  in  for  it,"  muttered  Lauder.  "  I 
owe  you  a  sovereign,  Kichard." 

They  hurried  down  to  the  carriage,  from  which 
they  elicited  in  turn  Toni,  Elsa,  and  Matilda,  all 
looking  as  fresh  as  possible,  quietly  dressed,  for 
a  wonder,  in  garments  more  or  less  suitable  for 
a  country  expedition,  not  a  suggestion  of  paint 
or  jewelry,  and  all  talking  and  laughing  at  the 
same  time.  Matilda  looked  quite  matronly,  and 
entirely  respectable  and  domestic;  and  the  'un 
wonted  early  hours  and  shaking-up  in  the  express 
had  not  in  the  least  disturbed  her  boisterous  good 
humor. 

"  Well,  here  we  are,  boys  —  my,  I  am  out  of 
breath  —  and  I'll  bet  you  didn't  expect  us  —  and 
you  wouldn't  have  seen  us  if  it  had  been  left  to 
those  two.  I  thought  I  should  never  get  them 
up ;  but  I  said,  '  Look  here,  girls,  it  isn't  every 
day  we  get  two  such  nice  boys  to  ask  us  out  just 
out  of  good-fellowship,  and  I'm  not  going  to  miss 
it.  Matilda's  going  out  to  drink  milk  and  pick 
what-d'ye-call-ums  in  the  country  before  she's  a 


214  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

day  older/  I  said.  And  I  bundled  them  out,  and 
we  told  the  coshey  to  drive  like  the  devil,  and  we 
missed  the  first  train,  and  caught  the  second,  or 
missed  the  second  and  caught  the  first  —  I  was 
so  mixed  I  couldn't  tell  which  —  and  here  we  are. 
'  My  word,'  I  said,  '  it  isn't  every  day  we  get  two 
such  nice'  —  what  d'ye  call  this  place?  Melon? 
Can  we  get  any  melons  here  ?  I  love  melons,  with 
the  insides  scooped  out;  the  worst  of  them  is 
they  make  your  face  so  wet;  and  —  I  say,  boys, 
what  time  do  we  have  lunch  ?  Where's  the  place  ? 
I  could  do  with  a  bit  of  something  after  that 
journey." 

"  And  oh,  I  tell  you,  my  dear,"  broke  in  Toni, 
"  I  never  thought  I  should  get  up !  I  never  vas 
so  tired  in  all  my  life.  But  Matilda,  she  say  all 
the  time,  it  vas  not  every  day  she  have  the  chance 
to  go  out  with  two  such  nice  boys ;  and  I  not  like 
to  disappoint  her,"  she  added  mischievously  to 
Eichard. 

They  were  walking  out  of  the  station.  "  So 
that  was  the  only  reason  you  came?"  he  said, 
looking  down  on  her,  pleasure  at  seeing  her  again 
sparkling  in  his  eyes. 

"  Oh,  don't  be  silly,  my  dear.  I  come  because 
I  vant  to,  and  I  sink  you  like  to  see  me  again, 
vhat?" 

"  It  was  really  I  who  brought  them  both,"  said 
Elsa.  "  They'd  never  have  got  up  if  I  hadn't 
brought  them  home  and  got  them  to  bed  early  — 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         215 

only  two  o'clock;  and  I  put  a  paper  on  my  door 
telling  them  to  call  me  at  eight.  And  I  hope 
you're  glad  to  see  us/'  she  laughed  to  Lauder, 
"because  I'm  jolly  glad  to  be  here,  out  of  that 
stuffy  hotel." 

Indeed,  they  all  seemed  genuinely  delighted, 
and  in  the  highest  spirits.  Lauder  in  his  capacity 
of  general  courier  had  chartered  two  open  car 
riages,  so  that  they  could  drive  back  instead  of 
waiting  for  the  steam-tram;  and  into  the  first  of 
these  he  handed  Elsa,  having  stipulated  before 
hand  that  he  was  not  to  be  given  over  to  a  tete-a- 
tete  with  Matilda.  It  had  been  decided  that  the 
buxom  dame  was  to  be  treated  with  every  deference 
and  respect,  as  the  distinguished  chaperon  of  the 
party;  she  was  duly  hoisted  into  the  second  car 
riage,  Eichard  and  Toni  following  her,  and  the 
cavalcade  set  off  in  a  great  deal  of  happiness  and 
good  humor.  While  they  were  still  within  the 
boundaries  of  Melun  a  due  decorum  was  observed ; 
but  once  beyond  the  octroi  and  out  on  the  country 
road  there  was  a  certain  relaxation  of  this  effort. 
Matilda  took  off  her  gloves  and  her  veil,  to  mark 
the  informality  of  the  occasion;  and  Toni,  nes 
tling  back  into  the  cushions,  put  up  two  little 
daintily  shod  feet  on  Eichard's  knee  (he  sat  oppo 
site  to  her)  and  reclined  luxuriously.  All  the  ab 
straction,  dissipation  of  mind,  and  lack  of  atten 
tion  that  had  characterized  her  in  her  Paris  sur 
roundings  dropped  from  her;  she  actually  looked 


216  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

at  Kichard  for  more  than  two  seconds  together, 
as  though  she  were  now  for  the  first  time  able 
to  recognize  his  existence.  Pie  realized  now  that 
this  was  what  he  had  been  wanting.  In  Paris 
he  had  been  only  an  accessory,  a  furniture  of  the 
scenes  in  which  she  was  set;  here  at  last  he  was 
the  principal  person,  and  he  noticed  with  delight 
that  she  evidently  regarded  carriage,  landscape, 
sunshine,  and  living  breezes  as  mere  accessories 
and  appurtenances  of  her  cavalier.  Matilda  rat 
tled  on  in  breathless  reminiscence  of  the  journey 
and  their  preparations  for  it;  for  over  minds  like 
hers,  alive  only  in  and  for  the  moment,  the  sponge 
of  oblivion  seems  to  be  continually  passing,  and 
the  events  of  the  past  twenty-four  hours  receive 
all  the  concentrated  mental  attention  which  with 
most  of  us  has  to  serve  as  many  years.  Toni,  who 
did  everything  thoroughly,  was  too  busy  taking 
in  her  new  environment,  and  enjoying  it,  to  talk 
much;  and  Eichard  was  too  happy  in  looking  at 
her  to  do  more  than  throw  in  a  word  now  and 
then  —  enough  to  keep  the  stream  of  eloquence 
flowing.  She  lay  back  against  the  cushions,  the 
brim  of  her  hat  shading  her  eyes,  the  sunshine 
striking  through  her  veil  and  flecking  he"r  face; 
and  whenever  her  eyes  met  Eichard's  they  smiled 
upon  him  with  a  new  and  growing  kindness,  and 
with  an  interest  and  approval  that  set  the  blood 
singing  in  his  veins.  He  seemed  to  himself  to  be 
living  in  some  kind  of  miraculous  dream,  where 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         217 

events  moved  with  a  magic  suddenness  unknown 
in  our  waking  lives;  in  which  to  desire  was  to 
possess,  and  to  wish  was  to  be  transported  into 
fairy  worlds  of  flowers  and  love  and  sunshine. 
No  words  had  been  spoken ;  and  yet  here  was  the 
woman  of  his  dreams  smiling  on  him,  and  the  two 
of  them  carried  as  though  by  some  kind  Arabian 
genius  out  of  the  world  into  a  garden  of  pleasures. 

As  the  horses  were  walking  up  a  slight  hill, 
Elsa  got  out  of  her  carriage  and  came  running 
back  along  the  road.  Some  pretty  laughing  quar 
rel  had  taken  place  between  her  and  Lauder;  she 
refused  to  drive  with  him  and  got  into  the  second 
carriage  beside  Kichard.  Lauder  came  back  with 
rueful  entreaties;  but  as  he  got  into  the  carriage 
at  one  side  she  got  out  on  the  other,  and  the 
vehicle  became  a  kind  of  thoroughfare  for  the 
playing  of  this  game.  The  example  was  too  much 
for  Toni,  who  got  out  also;  and  presently  they 
were  all  four  chasing  about  the  road  like  butter 
flies  in  the  bright  sunshine.  Elsa  found  some 
wild  flowers  in  the  field  bordering  the  road,  and 
entangled  Lauder  in  an  effort  to  identify  them; 
and  nothing  would  serve  Toni  but  she  must  be 
lifted  up  on  the  bank  to  gather  more. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  "  pretty,  my  dear,  pretty !  I 
find  flowers  just  like  this  at  my  home  in  Posen. 
How  I  love  flowers!  See,  my  dear,  I  make  you 
buttonhole  —  one,  zwei,  three,  four  —  come  here, 
Eeechard,  I  put  them  in  for  you.  There!  Vhat 


218  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

you  say?  Happee?  Oh,  yes,  my  dear,  I  love  the 
country.  It  reminds  me  of  my  home,  vhere  we 
have,  oh,  such  a  nice  garten.  I  am  so  glad  we 
came.  Vhat?  Come  here,  I  gif  you  somesing 
else."  And  she  pulled  his  face  down,  and  planted 
a  kiss  on  the  tip  of  his  chin,  and  then  ran  off  to 
Matilda  with  a  bunch  of  flowers.  The  flowers 
were  the  commonest  kind  —  dandelions  and  butter 
cups  and  clover ;  and  if  pathos  had  been  a  possible 
note,  there  might  have  been  something  of  the 
pathetic  in  that  eager  gathering  of  weeds,  because 
they  were  gay  and  green  and  yellow,  and  grew  in 
the  sunshine  and  the  open  air.  But  there  was  a 
vigor  and  simplicity  and  gusto  in  the  happiness  of 
these  wicked  women  that  snuffed  out  the  pathetic ; 
they  were  in  the  world  on  their  own  terms,  and 
finding  it  a  good  place;  respect  them  if  you  will, 
but  do  not  pity  them.  There  are  many  excellent 
and  moral  persons  who  might  exchange  all  their 
knowledge  of  botany  for  a  little  of  Toni's  pleasure 
in  a  dandelion,  with  a  deal  of  advantage  to  the 
world  at  large. 

Laughter  and  nonsense,  and  running  to  and  fro 
between  the  carriages,  and  sorties  into  the  wood  to 
discover  new  flowers,  made  the  journey  seem  short ; 
the  ladies  were  infinitely  delighted  with  the  ap 
pearance  of  Barbizon,  which  they  declared  to  be 
like  a  stage  village;  and  when  at  length  they 
stood  on  the  little  balcony  overlooking  the  forest, 
they  were  charmed  almost  into  silence  by  the  spell 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         219 

of  wonder  which  it  threw  upon  them.  For  a 
moment  they  enjoyed  the  picture  of  that  dim 
green  solitude  with  all  their  might :  even  Matilda, 
whom  nothing  could  charm  quite  into  silence,  was 
moved  to  artistic  reminiscence. 

"  I  say/'  she  said,  "  it's  too  pretty,  you  know. 
I  wouldn't  have  missed  this  for  the  world.  Look 
here,  John  "  (for  so  it  was  she  addressed  Lauder), 
"  that  bit  in  there,  with  the  trees  and  that  little 
hollow,  it's  just  like  what  you  see  in  a  picture." 

He  told  her  it  had  been  often  painted. 

"  There  now !  I  knew  I'd  seen  it  somewhere. 
Why,  it's  every  bit  as  pretty  as  a  picture.  My 
word,  I  am  glad  I  came.  We'll  go  in  there,  and 
sit  down  under  those  trees,  won't  we?  But  look 
here,  boys,  what  pries  lunch  ?  And  then  after  that 
we'll  go  into  the  forest." 

Lauder  had  retained  the  principal  chamber  in 
the  pavilion  to  serve  as  a  dressing-room  for  them, 
and  thither  they  now  repaired.  It  was  a  noble 
apartment,  with  a  fine  polished  floor,  a  ceiling 
painted  and  inlaid  with  rare  woods,  excellent  tap 
estry  on  the  walls,  a  great  open  car^-d  chimney, 
and  a  magnificent  state  bed,  wonderfully  carved 
and  inlaid,  with  a  panel  over  it  bearing  a  famous 
signature.  This  room  was  another  surprise  and 
pleasure;  but  its  effect  on  Matilda  was  start 
ling. 

She  drew  a  long  breath  as  they  came  in  through 
the  orjen  F/ench  windows.  "  Look  here,"  she 


220  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

said,  "this  is  a  bit  of  all  right."  She  appeared 
to  meditate  for  a  moment,  and  then  added,  in  a 
hard,  business-like  voice :  "  I'm  going  to  stop 
here.  I'm  going  to  sleep  in  that  bed,  if  I  die  for 
it.  Matilda  lying  in  state!  What  do  you  say, 
girls?  We  can  manage  for  one  night,  can't  we, 
and  all  go  back  together  to-morrow?  I  don't 
leave  here  until  I've  slept  in  that  bed,  anyway. 
Keska-say-ka-sah  ?  " 

And  so  it  was  eventually  arranged.  Two  more 
rooms,  one  in  an  adjoining  pavilion,  were  secured ; 
and  the  party  went  to  lunch  with  the  appetites 
and  spirits  of  children  on  a  pleasure  excursion. 
The  meal  was  a  complete  success.  Every  one 
talked  at  once,  every  one  declared  that  food  had 
never  tasted  so  good,  or  wine  so  refreshing. 
Eichard  and  Lauder  had  no  opportunities  for  pri 
vate  conversation,  but  they  exchanged  glances  of 
amused  intelligence  at  each  development  of  this 
rapid  adventure.  There  was  no  awkwardness 
about  the  party  —  thanks,  principally,  to  the  good 
nature  of  Matilda.  It  was  understood  that  Rich 
ard  was  Toni's  special  property,  and  that  Lauder 
devoted  himself  especially  to  Elsa,  with  whom  he 
held  long  and  confidential  conversations;  but 
Matilda  never  for  one  moment  allowed  herself  to 
appear  unprovided  for.  This  crude  creature,  on  a 
holiday  from  a  life  that  to  the  normal  mind  must 
seem  even  at  its  best  one  of  dismal  unpleasantness, 
shone  with  kind  and  unselfish  virtues.  She  ex- 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE  SANDS         221 

pected  no  attentions,  and  was  flattered  by  the 
respect  and  consideration  shown  to  her  by  her 
hosts;  she  played  admirably  in  her  new  and  un 
accustomed  role  of  grande  dame;  and  she  neither 
permitted  herself  to  interfere,  nor  appeared  to 
hold  pointedly  aloof  from  her  companions.  In 
a  word,  the  little  festival,  which  in  other  hands 
might  have  been  so  differently  conducted,  was  a 
model  of  propriety  and  success;  and  the  effect 
upon  the  three  women  was  marked.  They  seemed 
determined  not  to  fall  short  of  the  position  which 
was,  for  the  moment,  offered  them;  they  gained, 
with  every  hour  of  this  unwonted  consideration, 
in  a  refined  self-respect  which,  although  it  was 
often  overlaid  by  the  gaudier  manners  of  their 
class,  was  yet  obviously  native  and  inherent;  and 
their  accession  of  naturalness  involved  no  loss  of 
charm  or  gaiety.  A  visit  was  paid  to  the  village 
shop  in  quest  of  soap,  brushes,  sponges,  and  other 
matters  consolatory  to  pretty  women  parted  from 
luggage  and  maids;  and  it  was  a  very  light- 
hearted  company  that  went  off  wandering  and 
laughing  into  the  forest.  Matilda  did  not  accom 
pany  them ;  she  had,  in  her  own  phrase,  "  done 
herself  tip-top ; "  she  panted  for  the  reposeful 
dignities  of  the  state  chamber;  and  there,  within 
drawn  curtains,  the  quartette  left  her. 

The  forest  threw  upon  each  of  them  a  different 
spell.  Lauder  and  Elsa  lingered  near  the  medal 
lions  of  Eousseau  and  Millet.  The  English  girl 


222  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

was  the  least  happy  of  the  party ;  the  semi-social 
atmosphere  in  which  she  found  herself  had  pain 
ful  reminders  for  her  of  a  forfeited  place  in  the 
world,  and  Lauder's  friendly  companionship  set 
her  longing  for  things  lost.  As  they  sat  and 
talked,  a  sense  of  the  tragic  mess  we  make  of 
some  women's  lives  was  brought  home  to  him  with 
unwonted  force.  He  was  not  really  cynical;  he 
had  a  human  heart  of  pity,  big  for  the  world  at 
large,  although  he  generally  held  individuals  at 
arm's  length;  and  this  pretty  girl  who  talked 
to  him  so  quietly  under  the  forest-trees,  whose 
acquaintance  he  had  so  lightly  made  and  would 
so  lightly  drop,  began  to  be  shown  to  him  in  the 
lights  and  scenes  of  a  tragedy.  They  passed  from 
light  conversational  play  to  the  you  and  I  of  real 
earnest;  he  led  her  to  talk  of  herself,  and  a  little 
of  her  present  life. 

"  Oh,  I  hate  it !  I  hate  it !  "  she  said,  passion 
ately.  "  I  hardly  ever  let  myself  think  about  it, 
for  when  I  do  I  send  people  avraj,  and  then  I 
have  no  money.  I  must  have  money  —  I  have 
people  dependent  on  me;  and  what  can  I  do?  I 
have  tried  to  get  situations  as  a  secretary,  but  I 
don't  know  enough ;  I  could  be  a  nursery  govern 
ess,  but  who  would  let  me  come  near  their  chil 
dren  ?  At  the  places  I  went  to,  some  of  them  said 
odious  things  to  me,  and  the  kindest  said  I  was 
too  good-looking !  "  Her  sweet  dark  eyes  brimmed 
for  a  moment,  but  she  dashed  the  tears  away. 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         223 

*•'  Some  women  seem  to  manage  better ;  if  I  could 
meet  some  one  I  liked,  who  would  keep  me  and 
be  good  to  me,  it  wouldn't  be  bad;  but  somehow 
I  seem  to  make  a  mess  of  things;  and  if  I  liked 
any  one,  the  bare  mention  of  money  would  make 
me  ill.  You  gave  us  a  long  lecture  the  other  night 
about  how  we  ought  never  to  be  seen  at  places 
like  Maxim's,  but  keep  to  the  smartest  places,  and 
wear  wonderful  clothes,  and  have  a  companion, 
and  be  exclusive;  but  you  want  a  cold  business 
head  for  that  —  and  then,  if  you  only  knew  the 
sort  of  men  who  pay  those  prices!  Here  and 
there  you  come  across  a  gentleman,  like  Toni's 
prince;  but  there  aren't  so  many  of  them,  and 
look  what  a  mess  she  made  of  that!  And  then 
when  it  comes  to  the  point,  one  sometimes  feels 
one  would  rather  starve.  I  was  having  tea  the 
other  day  at  the  Elysee  Palace,  and  I  got  a  note 
from  a  man  who  offered  me  five  hundred  pounds 
if  I'd  stay  a  week  with  him.  I  wanted  money, 
and  it  looked  like  a  good  chance  —  but  when  I 
saw  him !  I  simply  couldn't ;  so  you  see  I'm  no 
use  at  all,  and  have  to  manage  just  the  best  way 
I  can." 

Lauder  said  nothing.  His  philosophies  melted 
away  before  the  problem  of  this  life;  he  realized 
that  Elsa  was  what  she  was  by  accident,  and  not 
by  nature;  that  she  was  perhaps  the  very  model 
of  a  woman  formed  by  nature  for  motherhood 
and  domestic  happiness,  but  cast  —  with  what 


224  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

cruel  irony  —  beyond  the  pale  of  these  kindly 
shelters.  In  the  quiet  forest  beneath  the  far-away 
rumor  of  the  tree-tops,  in  the  noontide  hush 
among  the  filtered  sunlight,  Terror  and  Pity 
came  and  sat  beside  him  —  terror  of  those  grind 
ing  wheels  of  life  that  go  on  and  on  forever, 
crushing  indiscriminately  the  true  and  the  false 
that  happen  to  come  within  their  path,  pity  for 
the  warm,  healthy  creature  beside  him,  young 
and  vital  and  firm-hearted,  suddenly  thrown  aside 
from  the  track  of  life.  He  could  only  hold 
out  his  own  hand  and  take  hers  in  a  friendly 
grasp. 

"  Tell  me  about  it,"  he  said. 

She  began  at  the  beginning,  and  told  the  story 
of  her  life  without  reserve  or  affectations.  As 
she  talked,  Lauder  seemed  to  see  a  tragedy  pass 
before  his  eyes  in  a  scroll  of  pictures.  The  little 
child  playing  in  her  Irish  home  by  the  seashore, 
much  petted,  a  little  spoiled  by  the  doctor,  her 
father,  but  growing  up  on  the  whole  happily ;  the 
clever,  pretty  girl  coming  home  from  school  in 
England,  and  turning  the  heads  of  all  the  young 
men  in  the  neighborhood;  motherless  now,  and 
managing  her  father's  home  with  a  gay  capacity 
that  made  her  sought  for  as  the  crown  of  many 
homes;  the  bride,  setting  out  in  a  flutter  of  hope 
and  romance  to  begin  life  in  her  new  home;  the 
young  wife,  battling  with  disillusion,  enduring  in 
silence  and  secrecy  the  brutal  cruelty  of  her 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE  SANDS         225 

drunken  husband  —  and  then  a  curtain  covering 
that  fiendish  blow  of  his,  and  the  destruction  of 
her  unborn  child.  And  then  (her  father  being 
dead)  the  hand  of  help  and  the  whisper  of  prom 
ise  coming  in  that  black  hour;  the  brave  step, 
the  year  of  peace  —  and  afterward  the  cruel  mo 
ment  of  abandonment,  the  desperate  struggle  to 
live,  and  the  final  acceptance  of  the  only  possible 
terms.  The  only  possible  terms!  Yes,  Lauder 
realized  that  ugly  fact  —  that  for  any  one  so 
young,  so  pretty,  so  friendless,  so  unfitted  for  any 
skilled  occupation,  our  social  order  has  no  recog 
nition.  She  must  not  sit  at  the  feast  of  polite 
ness,  nor  eat  at  the  table  of  social  life;  the  world 
of  her  time  and  country  has  no  place  for  her,  and 
refuses  her  bread  on  any  terms  but  those  which 
it  deems  disgraceful.  Impossible  even  to  help 
her  but  on  the  same  bitter  terms!  Yet  with  a 
kind  of  awe  Lauder  realized,  as  she  sat  all  dappled 
over  with  the  shy  sunbeams,  so  brave  and  radiant, 
so  sad  and  blooming,  that  the  evil  inflicted  by  the 
world  of  men  stops  short  at  the  armor  of  a  soul  in 
possession  of  itself.  Through  all  her  miseries, 
Elsa  had  at  least  arrived  at  that  spiritual  anchor 
age  ;  she  knew  something  of  the  worst  and  best  of 
life,  and  still  she  could  smile  and  be  happy.  Well 
for  her  that  there  is  an  appeal  from  the  social 
law;  that  even  without  the  pale,  apart  from  the 
envied  company  at  the  feast,  there  are  places 
where  nature  and  not  man  rules,  and  where  such 


226  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

as  she,  eating  their  bread  of  bitterness,  may  taste 
with  it  a  new  salt  of  truth,  and  find  a  new  peace 
in  its  savor. 

As  Lauder  listened  to  her  story,  and  as  he 
looked  at  her  beside  him,  he  found  it  in  his  heart 
to  wish  that  he  was  capable  of  some  of  those  rash, 
brave  impulses  that  may  carry  us  to  starry  heights 
so  far  beyond  the  blinder  prudence  of  the  worldly 
wise;  to  wish  that  he  could  hold  out  a  hand  to 
this  clean-souled  woman,  and  save  her  life  with 
his!  The  chances  were  that  she  would  make  a 
good  comrade  in  marriage,  for  all  her  genius  was 
for  that  difficult  partnership;  the  mother,  too, 
of  happy  children,  although  his  social  world 
would  be  closed  both  to  her  and  to  them.  In  a 
corner  of  his  mind  he  saw  those  clear  possibilities; 
with  the  rest  of  his  intelligence  he  was  aware  the 
thing  would  never  be  done,  knew  it  to  be  against 
all  his  instincts  and  habits,  saw  himself  unfit  for 
it,  and  fell  to  wondering  on  all  the  wreckage  that 
floats  past  us  on  the  tides,  of  life,  all  the  chances, 
some  within  reach,  some  needing  a  brave  push  to 
sea  in  our  cockle-shell  if  we  are  to  bring  them 
safe  to -shore,  that  set  toward  and  away  from  us 
with  the  drift  of  time.  .  .  .  He  was  roused  by  her 
voice,  speaking  in  a  lighter  tone. 

"  It's  too  bad  of  me  to  spoil  this  nice  day  by 
talking  of  such  dismal  things;  let  us  forget 
them/'  she  said.  "Now  tell  me  about  Rousseau 
and  Millet." 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE  SANDS         227 

Eichard  and  Toni  had  walked  on  through  the 
forest,  which  kept  opening  its  green  arms  before 
and  closing  up  behind  them.  Her  talk  rippled  on, 
heedless  of  his  silence;  impersonal  talk,  more  the 
expression  of  the  effect  produced  on  her  mind  by 
all  she  saw,  and  immediately  coined  into  speech, 
than  conversation  addressed  to  any  human  being. 
Eichard  for  a  time  delighted  in  her  unconscious 
ness  of  himself,  which  left  him  free  to  observe 
her.  The  transitions  of  her  mind  were  as  quick 
and  flashing  as  the  play  of  sunbeams  across  her 
face;  she  stepped  lightly,  like  a  wild  animal  at 
home  there,  across  the  deep  carpet  of  sand  and 
pine-needles;  she  vibrated  with  life  and  with  the 
quick  precision  of  her  senses.  The  sudden  scared 
swoop  of  a  bird  across  their  path  would  startle 
her  into  a  pleasure  she  must  express  by  the  clap 
ping  of  hands;  anything  more  beautiful  than  her 
gusto  and  delight  in  the  forest  world  Richard 
thought  he  had  never  seen.  She  was  at  no  time  an 
affected  or  artificial  creature,  but  every  shred  of 
acquired  manner  that  she  possessed  had  dropped 
from  her  like  a  garment,  and  left  her  as  free  and 
natural  and  as  full  of  savage  graces  as  a  child. 
Again  Eichard  felt,  as  he  had  felt  before,  an 
almost  uncanny  sense  of  being  in  the  presence 
of  a  creature  of  another  planet,  who  lived  at  a 
higher  power  and  breathed  a  more  vital  air  than 
ours.  She  was  like  one  who  had  been  plunged 
in  the  very  waters  of  youth,  to  emerge  shining 


228  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

with  the  dews  and  fires  of  the  eternal  fountain, 
a  thing  of  the  morning,  of  morning's  mystery  and 
brightness  when  she  steals  shy  and  golden  from 
the  edge  of  clouds  to  race  with  their  shadows 
across  the  meadows. 

Presently  she  was  tired  and  must  sit  down.  As 
abruptly  as  the  change  from  her  dancing,  tripping 
movements  to  the  stillness  of  repose,  she  turned 
the  battery  of  her  woman's  nature  full  on  Eichard, 
leaning  back  and  looking  at  him  through  her  long 
golden  eyelashes.  He  faced  her,  looking  eagerly 
and  gravely  at  her  lovely  and  inscrutable  face. 

"Vhat  you  thinking  about?"  she  said.  They 
had  tried  speaking  in  her  native  tongue,  but  Eich 
ard  had  found  his  scientific  German  a  hopeless 
messenger  of  his  thoughts,  and  as  unintelligible 
to  her  as  her  border  inflections  were  to  him;  so 
they  had  returned  to  English,  of  which  Toni  could 
speak  rather  more  than  she  understood. 

"  I  am  thinking,"  said  Eichard,  "  that  you  are 
the  most  wonderful  little  person  I  have  ever  seen/' 

She  nodded  her  head  gravely  several  times,  like 
one  who  hears  again  a  familiar  but  important 
truth.  "You  think  I  am  pretty  —  truly?"  she 
asked. 

"  Pretty !  You  are  the  loveliest  thing  in  the 
world,"  said  Eichard,  smiling. 

"  No,  my  dear,  you  make  me  angry  —  really  — 
if  you  say  that.  I  am  pretty,  my  dear,  but  beauti 
ful  !  —  no.  Ah,  you  should  see  my  little  sister. 


THE   HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         229 

She  is  beautiful,,  lovely,  my  dear;  I  never  see 
anything  so  lovely  in  all  my  life.  Oh,  no,"  she 
continued,  as  Richard  protested,  "  I  think  nothing 
of  pretend.  If  a  thing  is  so,  I  know  it,  my  dear, 
and  if  it  is  not  so,  I  always  rather  know  vhat  is 
true  than  pretend  somesing  nicer.  Vhat?  Vy 
you  say  silly  things  to  me,  if  you  like  me?"  She 
shook  her  head.  "  I  am  afraid  you  do  not  like 
me,  my  dear,  or  else  you  say  not  those  silly 
things ! " 

Eichard  came  eagerly  beside  her,  took  her  hand 
and  held  it  to  his  lips  for  a  long  time.  "  Toni, 
don't  you  know  I  love  you  ?  "  His  voice  shook  a 
little. 

She  let  her  hand  rest  in  his,  and  looked  at  him, 
apparently  quite  unmoved  by  his  emotion,  even 
smiling  a  little  at  it.  "  You  think  so  ?  "  she  said. 
"  I  know  better,  my  dear,"  and  then  she  broke 
into  a  rippling  laugh.  "  Poor,  poor  fellow ;  he  is 
in  love  with  Toni  —  oh,  so  madly  in  love !  " 

"  Why,  you  dear  little  devil,"  said  Eichard, 
joining  in  the  laugh,  "you  make  me  wonder  my 
self!  Anyhow,  you've  bewitched  me;  and  yet  — 
dear  pretty  one,  let  us  be  happy !  "  And  he  looked 
into  her  deep  eyes  with  a  grave  and  very  appeal 
ing  eagerness. 

She  looked  upwards,  far  away  through  the 
spaces  of  the  trees,  to  the  blue  deeps  of  the  sky. 
Then  she  turned  to  him. 

"  Listen,"  she  said.    "  No,  sit  over  there,  vhere 


230  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

I  see  your  face.  Now  "  —  she  spoke  slowly  and 
carefully  at  first  —  "I  tink  you  say  not  quite 
truly  that  you  love  me.  I  am  not  a  fool,  my  dear, 
and  I  am  not  blind  either.  I  have  watch  you 
when  you  think  I  do  not  see  you.  All  the  time 
I  watch  you,  and  I  say:  'This  boy  thinks  he 
wants  me,  oh,  very  badly.'  You  like  me  because 
I  am  not  stupid,  like  all  these  other  girls;  and 
often  vhen  you  say  things,  none  of  them  under 
stand  you  —  you  and  your  friend  —  but  I  under 
stand.  Also  I  understand  that  you  are  not  —  vhat 
you  call  it?  —  quick,  fast;  you  do  not  go  about 
with  vomens.  And  I  say  to  myself :  '  I  like  this 
boy;  he  is  chic,  smart,  but  he  is  nice;  he  is  — 
vhat  you  say  ?  —  good  comrade,  he  would  be  a 
good  friend,  if  he  not  fall  in  love  with  you ! ' 
And  then  you  think  you  fall  in  love  with  me 
straight  off !  I  tell  you,  my  dear,  it  is  not.  You 
are  too  nice  to  fall  in  love  with  me ;  you  are  — 
vhat  ?  —  in  love  with  some  one  of  your  own  world, 
is  it  not?  No?  .  .  .  Oh,  you  silly  boy,  I  like  you 
more  than  I  tell  you;  it  is  not  good  for  yon  or 
me;  but  if  you  knew  my  life,  you  would  know 
love  not  to  come  so  easily,  my  dear;  love  is  not 
so  easy  or  pleasant.  It  is  hard  and  cruel  —  ach, 
Gott !  How  cruel !  "  She  was  speaking  faster 
now,  and  with  a  new  vibrating  note  of  emotion  in 
her  voice.  "  Once  I  thought  I  love,  my  dear,  and 
I  give  my  silly  heart,  and  all  people  was  hard, 
bitter,  cruel  to  me!  Now  I  give  nothings,  and 


THE   HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         231 

pretend,  and  all  people  pet  me  and  give  me  dia 
monds  and  money,  and  say,  like  you :  '  0  Toni, 
we  are  madly  in  love  with  you ! '  And  then/'  she 
continued,  as  though  she  were  trying  to  convince 
herself  with  arguments,  "  one  loves  not  the  out 
side,  my  dear,  but,  That  you  call  it?  inside, 
spirits;  you  know  my  outsides,  but  vhat  you  know 
of  my  insides?  Love  is  not  of  a  face." 
'  Richard  spoke  as  though  in  a  dream.  "  I  love 
your  body,  my  dear  pretty  one,  because  it  is  beau 
tiful,  and  I  don't  believe  anything  so  beautiful 
can  be  anything  but  adorable  '  insides/  as  you  call 
it.  Little  girl,  look  at  me :  I  love  you,  I  long  for 
you." 

She  shook  her  head,  yet  smiling  tenderly  as  she 
looked  at  him.  "  0  silly  one,"  she  said,  "  I  am 
not  always  like  this.  This  place  remind  me  of 
my  home,  vhere  I  was,  oh,  so  happy !  "  Her  eyes 
brightened,  and  she  suddenly  put  her  head  close 
to  his  and  spoke  in  a  low  voice,  with  a  delicious 
smile  on  her  face.  "  Listen,"  she  said,  "  I  tell 
you  a  game.  For  this  time,  while  we  are  here, 
we  pretend,  if  you  like  —  we  pretend  that  you  are 
in  love  with  me,  and  that  I  am,  oh,  madly  in  love 
with  you ! "  and  the  merry  laugh  pealed  again. 
"Vhat?  Yes?  We  shall?  Very  well,  my  dear, 
I  love  you,  oh,  ever  so  much ! "  She  looked  at 
him  mockingly  for  a  minute,  then  dropped  her 
eyes,  and  let  her  head  fall  on  his  shoulder,  where 
his  lips  found  her  warm  lips  and  clung  to  them 


232  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

with  a  passion  in  which  there  was  indeed  little  of 
make-believe.  The  forest  sighed  and  spoke  to 
them  in  its  thousand  voices,  the  birds  fluttered 
and  piped  far  above,  distant  voices  laughed  and 
echoed  through  the  green  vaults ;  and  for  Eichard 
Grey  there  was  a  full  cup  of  that  pagan  joy  at 
which  the  forest  had  hinted.  His  heart  and  his 
blood  sang  together  as  he  held  Toni's  dear  yielding 
form  in  his  arms ;  he  had  a  sense  of  gratitude,  of 
love  for  the  eternal  capricious  beneficence  that 
he  felt  was  busy  in  this  moment  of  his  life;  and 
he  could  have  found  it  in  his  heart  to  build  an 
altar  and  offer  a  sacrifice,  and  pour  out  a  libation 
to  the  shy  gods  of  happiness  that  seemed  to  be 
lurking  in  the  leafy  depths. 

From  that  moment  the  spell  was  upon  them. 
Toni  became  as  absorbed  in  him  as  he  was  in  her; 
asked  him  questions  about  himself,  and  inter 
rupted  his  answers  to  tell  him  of  her  childhood. 
She  was  a  child  again ;  her  gravity  had  gone,  and 
with  it  her  independence;  she  held  his  hand  in 
hers  as  they  rambled  off  again,  now  climbing  some 
hill  whence  there  was  a  view  across  the  tree-top 
ocean,  now  plunging  into  depths  of  deepest  green 
twilight.  She  dragged  him  hither  and  thither 
gathering  flowers,  which  she  was  obliged  to  throw 
away  to  make  room  for  new  ones;  she  sat  down 
to  make  a  daisy  chain  for  Matilda,  and  spent  quite 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  on  it.  A  daisy  chain  for 
Matilda !  It  was  an  odd  decoration  for  the  dame, 


THE   HOUSE    ON    THE   SANDS          233 

he  thought;  and  then,  like  the  pang  of  a  knife- 
thrust,  went  through  him  another  thought  —  that 
the  weaving  of  daisies  was  an  odd  occupation  for 
Toni's  slender  fingers !  He  strangled  it  as  a  dis 
loyalty,  as  unclean  sentimentality,  and  told  him 
self  that  purity  was  not  a  technical  thing,  and 
that  she  had  more  in  common  with  the  daisies 
than  many  a  technically  pure  woman;  and  he 
stooped  down  and  kissed  her  as  she  sat  over  her 
task  with  puckered  brows,  and  had  the  reward  of 
seeing  her  face  break  into  a  heavenly  smile  of  ten 
derness  for  him.  On  their  way  home  they  stopped 
at  the  Hotel  des  Charmettes,  and  sat  down  in  the 
pebbled  courtyard  to  drink  orangeade;  and  while 
they  were  waiting  Toni  picked  up  a  dozen  pebbles 
from  the  ground  and  showed  him  a  German  child's 
game  of  throwing  them  up  and  catching  them, 
in  which  she  became  as  absorbed  as  in  anything 
else. 

"  Vhat  you  do  ?  "  she  asked  him  suddenly,  while 
they  were  sitting  and  enjoying  the  pleasant  shade 
of  the  trees  after  their  walk  in  the  long  street. 
"  Vhat  you  do  all  the  time  in  England  ?  " 

"  I'm  an  engineer,"  said  Eichard. 

"  Vhat  ?  Engineer  ?  Vhat's  engineer  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  I  make  harbors  and  lighthouses,"  he  answered, 
smiling. 

She  hardly  understood,  and  did  not  waste  any 
time  in  trying. 


234  THE   SANDS    OF   PLEASURE 

"  How  much  you  make  by  that  in  a  year  ?  "  she 
asked;  and,  when  Bichard  had  told  her,  ex 
claimed,  laying  her  hand  on  his  arm,  "  0  my 
poor  boy,  my  poor,  poor  boy !  And  I  have  been 
letting  you  pay  for  all  of  us  here !  " 

Eichard,  who  had  hitherto  regarded  himself  as 
rather  well  off,  did  not  know  whether  to  be  amused 
or  offended  at  this  tribute  of  unaffected  sympathy ; 
but  he  soon  found  it  impossible  to  make  her  un 
derstand  that  the  value  of  money  was  in  any  way 
relative  to  one's  needs.  She  thought  in  thousands 
where  he  thought  in  tens. 

"  Vhat  clubs  do  you  belong  to  ?  "  was  her  next 
question;  and  this  time  she  was  satisfied  with 
his  answer,  the  names  and  standing  of  the  two 
clubs  he  mentioned  being  familiar  to  her  for  rea 
sons  which  Eichard  tried  not  to  understand. 

"  And  you  belong  to  those  clubs  and  have  only 
that  much  money?  Yhat?  0  my  poor  boy! 
Look  here,  my  dear;  I  am  rich  —  oh,  I  have  lots 
of  money,  my  dear.  I  give  you  some  —  I  lend 
you  a  thousand,  you  see.  Vhat  ?  "  And  when  he 
had  laughingly  explained  the  impossibility  of  any 
such  benevolent  arrangement,  she  abandoned  that 
subject  in  its  turn  with  her  usual  alacrity. 

For  the  rest,  their  talk  was  delightful  and  inti 
mate.  She  spoke  much  of  her  childhood  and  girl 
hood,  of  the  man  who  had  started  her  as  a  dancer 
in  Vienna,  of  her  success  there,  of  the  prince  with 
whom  she  had  gone  to  live  in  Eussia,  and  the 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         235 

house  and  estates  over  which  she  had  been  mis 
tress;  but  of  her  nearer  past  not  a  word  was 
spoken,  nor  of  the  future.  All  that  was  blotted 
out  from  her  mind,  it  became  unreal  in  the  forest 
atmosphere.  And  they  talked  much  of  each  other 
—  the  talk  of  lovers.  Of  the  nature  and  degree 
of  their  love,  who  shall  be  wise  enough  to  speak? 
Other  than  enduring  things  are  true,  and  the  ban 
ners  of  life  and  love  are  carried  forward  inde 
pendently  of  our  moral  standards.  But  in  Rich 
ard's  mind  there  was  rooted  and  growing  the  veri 
table  tree  on  which  blooms  the  fatal  fruit;  and 
into  his  heart  at  any  rate  we  may  have  some 
glimpse.  The  pride  of  the  eye  and  the  lust  of 
the  flesh  were  his  brave  portion,  boldly  embraced 
for  the  sweetness  they  cradled.  The  cloudy  and 
fiery  pillar  of  his  destiny  that  had  so  long  seemed 
to  pause  was  moving  now;  and  he  followed  it 
without  consideration  and  without  misgiving.  Of 
Toni's  life  he  refused  to  think  in  those  golden 
hours ;  for  where  love  inhabits  he  sends  a  messen 
ger  before  his  face  to  sweep  out  the  lodging,  to 
perfume  it  with  the  costly  spikenard  of  devotion, 
to  garnish  it  with  the  images  he  would  find  there, 
and  to  prepare  it,  with  a  voice  of  tears  and  warn 
ing,  for  the  kingdom  that  is  at  hand. 

But  the  obscure  depths  of  Toni's  heart  hold 
their  mystery  against  all  our  imaginative  light. 
The  pleasures  of  blindness  and  illusion  were  not 
for  her ;  she  was  condemned  to  a  clear  knowledge 


236  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

of  the  facts,  and  to  an  experience  of  men's  minds 
under  the  domination  of  the  flesh  such  as  sages 
may  envy,  and  no  one  but  unhappy  women  achieve. 
We  cannot  wholly  separate  the  body  from  the 
spirit,  except  in  corporeal  death;  to  offend  with 
the  body  is  to  offend  in  some  measure  with  the 
soul;  and  for  damage  or  indignity  offered  to  the 
body  there  is  doubtless  some  obscure  tribute  ex 
acted  from  its  radiant  and  intangible  shadow. 
No  use  to  pretend,  then,  that  although  this  girl 
had  sold  her  body,  the  spirit  so  intimately  linked 
with  it  remained  inviolably  her  own.  Some  blunt 
ing  and  degrading  of  that  bright  metal  had  been 
the  inevitable  result ;  some  dimming  of  the  mirror 
in  which  we  see  the  images  of  things  loved.  And 
yet  the  flesh  was  there,  unsoiled  by  its  betrayals, 
flying  nature's  tender  signals;  the  heart  to  beat, 
the  pulses  to  quicken,  the  eyes  to  melt,  the  skin 
to  telegraph  its  ecstatic  messages;  and  they  who 
would  question  the  security  of  love's  foundations 
must  first  be  sure  in  what  element  of  our  transient 
being  he  sits  enthroned.  Enough,  surely,  that 
these  two  were  happy,  and  at  their  best;  that 
they  wandered  through  the  little  village  as  though 
they  walked  an  enchanted  land;  that  they  tasted 
a  rapture  that  is  the  birthright  of  all  human 
beings,  and  were  quickened  with  that  forerunner 
of  the  creative  impulse  which  passes  like  a  wind 
to  and  fro  in  the  universe. 

They  all  met  at  dinner  on  the  lamplit  balcony, 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         237 

Matilda  full  of  the  praises  of  sleep  and  the  simple 
life;  Toni  and  Eichard  at  first  subject  to  a  little 
gentle  chaff  from  Lauder,  and  a  mild  sympathy 
from  Elsa,  who  looked  incredulously  at  the  sub 
dued  Toni.  They  all  sat  talking  for  some  time 
afterward,  the  best  of  friends;  and  presently,  the 
long  day  in  the  open  air  beginning  to  tell  upon 
them,  the  three  guests  decided  for  bed.  Matilda 
was  escorted,  with  candles  and  much  laughter,  to 
her  lying  in  state  in  the  painted  chamber,  where 
Lauder  and  Eichard,  obeying  a  very  happy  im 
pulse  of  flattery  and  consideration,  gallantly 
saluted  her  before  leaving.  Lauder  took  Elsa 
across  the  garden  to  her  room  in  another  pavilion, 
and  saw  that  she  had  everything  she  wanted.  She 
fidgeted  about  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then,  as  he 
was  turning  away,  she  spoke. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "  I  want  to  tell  you 

—  we've  all  enjoyed  everything  so  much  to-day  — 
it's  been  a  thing  quite  outside  our  ordinary  lives 

—  and  you've  made  me  so  happy  by  your  kind 
ness  —  you  don't  know  what  it  means  —  I  —  " 

"  Oh,  nonsense,"  said  Lauder  from  the  steps ; 
"it  was  very  good  of  you  to  come,  and  to  put 
up  with  this  country  picnicking.  We've  enjoyed 
having  you  here  no  end.  And  as  for  our  friends 
across  there  —  well,  they  seem  quite  happy,  don't 
they?" 

She  looked  rather  wistfully  across  to  where  the 
light  from  Toni's  bedroom  shone  through  the 


238  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

trees.  Then  she  looked  at  Lauder.  "  I  wish/'  she 
said,  and  then  stopped.  "If  there  was  any 
thing  —  "  she  stopped  again.  "  Oh,  I  wish  there 
was  some  way  I  could  show  you  how  grateful  I 
am.  But  I've  nothing  to  offer  —  that  I  should 
care  to  offer  you,"  she  added. 

She  looked  so  sweet,  standing  there  framed  in 
the  door,  the  candle  in  her  hand  lighting  up  the 
wistful  face  under  its  shadow  of  dark  hair,  her 
pale  green  dress  falling  in  long,  sweeping  lines. 
Lauder  hesitated  for  the  fraction  of  a  second,  and 
then  spoke  in  his  ordinary  tone.  "  Will  you  offer 
me  a  kiss  ? "  he  said ;  "  or  would  you  rather  I 
asked  for  it  ?  " 

Her  eyes  brimmed  with  tears;  she  understood; 
and  bending  down  she  took  his  chin  between  her 
fingers,  and  printed  one  light  kiss  on  his  mouth. 
"  Good  night,"  she  said ;  and  the  door  closed 
behind  her. 


SOME  kindly  mist  falls  upon  the  eyes  of  all 
whom  love  visits.  The  miraculous  conversa 
tion  of  the  flesh  is  beyond  our  words  and  symbols, 
and  far  beyond  our  moralities;  the  heart  may 
listen,  the  mind  may  watch,  but  it  is  the  body, 
and  the  soul  of  nature  that  is  within  the  body, 
that  utters  its  voice  in  these  rapt  hours.  Love 
unhallowed,  love  unsanctified  by  our  laws,  is  love 
still;  the  song  is  still  a  song,  although  we  follow 
it  to  shipwreck;  but  he  who  loves  wholly  and 
bravely  cleanses  the  thing  he  loves,  and  takes  it 
within  his  heart  inviolable  and  undefiled.  The 
half-hearted  may  halt  and  quaver,  and  calculate 
the  cost,  and  hold  themselves  back  on  the  evidence 
of  eyes  that  take  the  world's  view;  they  have 
their  reward.  They  escape  some  of  the  fires  and 
punishments  with  which  our  wandering  destinies 
are  beset;  they  stay  without  the  ring  of  barbed 
sorrows  that  are  planted  about  the  gardens  where 
grows  the  eternal  fruit.  They  march  with  the 
wise  and  prudent,  that  good  company  who  keep 
the  standards  of  life  flying;  but  they  forego  the 
knowledge  of  things  that  are  revealed  to  babes- 
239 


240  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

Nature's  children !  They  are  of  the  whole-minded, 
the  hot-hearted;  they  stumble  along  a  difficult 
path,  not  seldom  a  lonely  one,  often  a  dim  track 
that  promises  nothing  but  the  fruit  of  going  on, 
and  denies  them  the  ease  and  company  on  the 
broad  road  worn  by  many  feet.  Yet  they  too  have 
their  reward. 

Ho  thought  of  hesitation  was  in  Kichard's  mind 
that  night;  no  scruple,  or  souring,  jealous  whis 
per  of  a  past  that  was  not  his,  and  that  was 
nameless  in  the  presence  of  his  love,  withheld  him 
from  the  joy  offered  him  by.  the  Pates;  he  did 
not  even  consider  the  terms  on  which  it  was 
offered,  but  received  it  with  the  gratitude  of  his 
whole  heart.  All  day  long  he  had  been  conscious 
of  the  pagan  spirit  that  seemed  to  be  native  in 
the  forest;  all  day  long,  as  Toni  had  drawn  to 
him,  and  begun  to  look  with  tenderness  into  his 
eyes,  he  had  felt  the  heavenly  certainty  of  happi 
ness  within  him.  The  gravity  and  quietness  that 
had  fallen  upon  her,  the  starry  lights  that  visited 
in  her  eyes,  the  little  involuntary  shivers  of  her 
body  when  he  had  touched  her,  —  all  spoke  of  the 
influence  of  the  same  great  spirit  that  had  thrown 
its  charm  over  them. 

He  opened  his  window  softly,  and  stepped  out 
on  the  dewy  grass.  Black  lay  the  garden  under 
the  great  sombre  trees,  and  silent;  for  the  night 
ingales  hushed  their  song  even  at  the  light  sound 
of  his  footstep.  Softly  he  walked  across  the  fra- 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         241 

grant  darkness  to  where  a  light  glimmered  in  the 
pavilion,  and  tapped  at  Toni's  window.  In  a 
moment  she  was  there,  opened  it,  and  stood  with- 
a  smile  of  welcome  on  her  face,  her  finger  on  her 
lips  enjoining  silence.  He  stole  in  and  folded  her 
in  his  arms,  and  felt  her  body  thrill  like  a  fiddle- 
string  to  the  touch  of  the  bow.  She  lifted  her 
head  from  his  shoulder,  and  looked  out  into  the 
night. 

"  Oh,  my  dear,"  she  whispered,  "  it  is  sweet  in 
the  garden ! " 

"  Come,"  he  said,  and  wrapped  her  in  an  over 
coat  he  had  lent  her  to  serve  as  a  dressing-gown. 

They  stole  out  again  into  the  darkness,  and  sat 
down  on  a  wooden  step  beside  the  lawn.  "  Now 
listen,"  he  said.  The  silence  was  complete;  they 
could  hear  each  other  breathing.  Not  a  leaf 
stirred,  not  a  sigh  sounded  in  the  blackness. 

Then,  a  few  low  sweet  notes  first,  and  a  trial 
trill  or  two,  began  the  song  of  the  nightingale. 
Louder  and  louder,  fuller  and  sweeter,  the  invis 
ible  bird  of  passion  unrolled  his  endless  silver 
banner  of  song  that  flowed  out  upon  the  silence 
and  darkness,  and  seemed  to  fall  in  festoons  about 
them.  He  paused  in  the  full  tide  of  music; 
another  voice  from  another  tree  answered  him; 
and  so  singing,  so  answering,  the  unearthly  anti- 
phon  went  on.  On  the  fleeting  river  of  the  hours 
its  music  fell  like  the  lapse  of  rain-drops  on  a 
stream;  it  bore  them  away  into  the  silence  and 


242  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

darkness;  and  still  the  melodious  sobbings  and 
chucklings,  those  unrecordable  turns  and  trills, 
kept  dropping  into  the  night,  as  though  all  the 
kisses  of  happy  dead  lovers  since  the  world  began 
were  falling  back  into  the  world  in  song. 

A  small,  awed  voice  spoke  into  Bichard's.  ear. 
"  Ah,  how  beautiful !  They  call  one  to  another !  " 
He  could  not  see  her ;  the  witchery  of  the  moment 
held  him  even  from  words;  but  his  lips  sought 
hers,  and  clung  to  them  while  the  rapturous  birds 
fluted  their  endless  song. 

Once  in  the  night  she  whispered  in  his  ear: 
"  Why,  oh,  why  do  you  love  me  so  much  ?  "  And 
when  his  lips  sought  her  cheek  to  answer  her  with 
a  kiss,  he  found  it  wet  with  tears. 

"  0  little  Toni,"  he  whispered,  passionately, 
"  my  love,  my  dear  sweet  one,  why  do  you  cry  ? 
We  love  each  other,  we  love  each  other,  we  are 
happy ! " 

"  Vhat  ? "  questioned  the  tremulous  voice. 
"  Happy,  my  dear  ?  Oh,  happy  is  not  for  me ! 
Only  a  little  while  to  forget,  my  dear,  dear  boy; 
only  a  little  while  to  forget,  while  your  love  is 
so  good  to  me ! " 

And  together  they  forgot.  To  Richard  at  any 
rate  there  was  all  the  world,  earth  and  heaven, 
now  and  hereafter,  in  the  sweet  responding  woman 
whose  heart  beat  against  his.  So  sweet  she  looked 
in  the  faint  beams  of  the  night  light!  So  fair 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         243 

and  young  and  tender  the  face  that  blushed  under 
his  kisses,  so  pure  the  perfect  breast  of  snow  that 
rose  and  fell  so  gently  when  she  slept  in  his  arms ! 
A  little  while  to  forget:  perhaps  Toni  said  the 
last  word  on  passionate  love  in  that  cry  of  a  mis 
used  heart.  A  little  while  to  lose  oneself,  a  little 
while  to  steep  the  soul  in  forgetfulness  of  itself, 
and  to  drown  it  in  the  sea  of  kindness  that  ebbs 
and  flows  between  two  hearts.  A  little  while,  at 
any  rate,  of  the  best  we  can  know  or  imagine;  a 
little  while,  before  we  drink  of  the  dark  river,  and 
forget  once  and  for  all.  Pure,  happy  women,  be 
a  little  kind  to  her  in  your  hearts. 


VII 

IN  a  private  room  of  a  small  restaurant  in  the 
Eue  d'Antin  a  party  of  six  were  seated  at 
dinner.  The  four  ladies  were  dressed  with  an 
elaborateness  evidently  designed  for  more  public 
scenes;  but  they  carried  their  gaiety  with  them 
wherever  they  went,  and  the  little  room  resounded 
with  chatter  and  laughter.  A  dominating  voice 
rose  above  the  commotion. 

"  Here,  garsong !  Vennay !  Apportay  moi  some 
more  of  that  keska-say-ka-sah !  That  twirly  stuff 
with  the  sauce.  I'm  a  divvle  at  French !  Com- 
prenay?  What?  Oh,  you  go  home  to  mother. 
Here,  John,  tell  him  what  I  want,  there's  a  good 
boy.  My  visit  to  the  seaside's  given  me  an  appe 
tite,  or  else  it's  the  state  bedroom.  I  say,  girls, 
what'll  the  others  say  when  I  tell  them  I've  been 
lying  in  state,  eh  ?  Keska-say-ka-sah  ?  " 

Matilda,  returned  from  pastoral  scenes,  and 
somewhat  rejuvenated  by  the  ministrations  of  her 
hair-dresser  in  the  afternoon,  was  presiding  over 
what  was  intended  to  be  a  farewell  gathering  of 
the  Barbizon  party.  Although  they  had  only  been 
there  for  twenty-four  hours,  the  visit  had  gone  off 
244 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         245 

with  such  eclat  that  it  had  already  been  rubricated 
in  the  calendar  of  their  lives,  and  had  made  old 
friends  of  them  all.  They  had  come  back  together 
after  an  early  lunch,  and  Eichard  and  Lauder  had 
then  left  their  three  guests  at  their  hotel  for  pur 
poses  of  repose  and  decoration  while  they  them 
selves  went  off  to  the  Tuileries  gardens,  to  sit 
among  the  chirping  sparrows,  and  talk.  Since 
they  had  met  the  train  at  Melun  the  day  before, 
they  had  hardly  been  alone  together  for  a  moment ; 
yet  so  much  seemed  to  have  happened  that  they 
eyed  each  other  a  little  doubtfully  —  perhaps  for 
the  first  time  in  their  acquaintance.  The  spell 
was  broken  by  Lauder  taking  a  sovereign  out  of 
his  pocket  and  handing  it  solemnly  to  Eichard. 
They  looked  at  one  another  and  laughed. 

"  This  is  all  very  well,  Eichard,"  said  Lauder, 
"but  it  can't  go  on  indefinitely.  I  must  protest. 
I  can  well  believe  that  you  intend  to  saddle  your 
self  with  Toni  for  the  rest  of  your  life,  and  I'm 
quite  willing  to  be  agreeable  to  Elsa  for  as  long 
as  you  please;  but  I  will  not  carry  Matilda  about 
with  me ! " 

"  You  impose  upon  me  no  longer,  Lauder.  You 
are  full  of  wise  counsels,  I  admit,  but  it  is  you 
all  the  time  who  keep  things  going.  Who  sug 
gested  Barbizon  ?  Who  said,  ( Why  not  ask  them 
down?'  Who  offered  Matilda  the  hospitality  of 
the  whole  village?  And  who  suggested  a  dinner 
party  to-night?  As  for  Matilda,  I  think  her  won- 


246  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

derful  and  inimitable.  What  would  our  party 
have  been  without  her?" 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right ;  we  are  certainly  lucky 
in  our  friends.  Isn't  it  odd  that  we  should  have 
found  three  such  exceptions,  who  nevertheless 
make  up  among  them  everything  that  is  repre 
sentative  of  their  life?  They  are  none  of  them 
French,  and  don't  even  live  in  France;  yet  one 
has  to  come  to  France  to  meet  them.  It  is  ex 
traordinarily  interesting,  and  since  we  are  inter 
ested  for  the  moment  in  this  particular  world,  I'm 
glad  we  met  them.  But  —  " 

"Well,  but  what?" 

"  Well,  take  care ;  that's  all.  You're  young,  and 
learning  is  a  delightful  pastime;  but  the  things 
one  learns  in  youth  are  apt  to  go  to  one's  heart." 

"  And  the  things  one  learns  in  age  go  to  one's 
head,  I  suppose?" 

"  Very  well ;  I'm  always  delighted  to  laugh. 
And  a  propos  of  your  studies,  let  us  pursue  them 
by  all  means  to-night ;  and  I  think,  if  we  mean  to 
do  this  thing  artistically,  we'll  go  back  to  London 
as  we  intended  to-morrow  morning  ?  " 

"  I  dare  say  we  shall  have  had  enough  by  then," 
said  Eichard ;  "  anyhow  we  can  see  when  the  time 
comes."  And  in  the  rest  of  their  talk,  which  was 
concerned  with  that  retrospective  analysis  which 
forms  part  of  any  pleasure  shared  by  those  who 
are  really  friends,  there  was  much  discussion  of 
Matilda,  and  of  Elsa,  and  of  the  party  as  a  whole; 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         247 

but  Toni  was  not  very  often  mentioned.  Eichard 
was  so  full  of  her  that,  whatever  the  subject,  his 
talk  was  really  of  her;  but  when  he  spoke  of  her 
directly  he  was  not  natural,  and  affected  a  critical 
detachment  of  mind  which  was  highly  illuminat 
ing  to  his  friend.  Lauder  was  far  too  much  a 
man  of  the  world  to  feel  either  responsibility  or 
anxiety  as  to  the  actions  of  other  people;  and 
he  was  more  interested  than  worried  by  Eichard's 
headlong  plunge  into  what,  with  a  nature  so 
thorough  as  his,  might  cause  a  serious  disturbance 
and  schism  of  his  life.  On  the  other  hand,  he 
knew  the  quality  of  his  friend's  character,  and 
that  nothing  from  without  could  ultimately  do 
him  any  real  damage.  But  as  they  separated  and 
he  went  to  his  room  to  dress,  he  felt,  almost  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life,  a  little  old;  and  the 
thought  that  he  was  beyond,  or  had  outgrown, 
anything  under  the  sun,  seized  him  with  a  mo 
mentary  panic. 

"...  And  I  tell  you,  my  dear,  I  enjoy  it  — 
oh,  ever  so  much !  If  only  I  had  had  some  things 
with  me,  we  could  have  stayed  a  little  longer  — 
you  and  I  alone,  my  dear.  Vhat?  Listen;  we 
could  have  sent  the  others  away,  and  we  should 
have  gone  off  into  the  forest  and  listened  to  the 
birds  —  all  alone,  you  and  I,  my  dear;  and  then 
we  should  have  come  back,  and  had  dinner  in  the 
garden  —  all  alone,  you  and  I !  And  —  whisper 


248  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

.  .  .  oh,  how  naughty  we  should  have  been,  and 
how  happy ! " 

They  were  sitting  hand  in  hand  at  one  end  of 
the  table,  a  little  drawn  apart  from  the  others, 
the  cigarette  smoke  wreathing  about  them,  the 
white  cloth  bare  but  for  the  coffee-cups  and  flasks 
of  liqueur.  For  her  two  days  of  plain  dress  Toni 
had  this  evening  indemnified  herself  by  a  toilet 
of  perfect  daintiness  and  butterfly  unreality.  To 
Richard,  intoxicated  by  her  presence  and  her 
touch,  she  appeared  in  an  indefinite  cloud  of  the 
palest,  flimsiest  cobweb  gray.  Dusted  with  dia 
mond  star  points,  warmed  by  the  lustre  of  her 
burnished  skin,  and  crowned  by  the  low  sweep  of 
tawny  hair  between  forehead  and  drooping  hat, 
she  was  as  lovely  as  a  flower  whose  petals  the  sea- 
wind  tosses,  and  whose  lithe  stem  yields  to  and 
springs  back  from  his  salt  strength.  For  Eichard 
she  had  the  added  and  transcendent  charm  of  a 
loved  woman  possessed;  her  beauty  had  golden 
memories  as  well  as  promises  for  him. 

Lauder  from  his  end  of  the  table  —  where  he 
sat  enveloped  in  the  conversation  of  Matilda  and 
Elsa,  and  of  another  girl  whom,  with  characteristic 
thoughtlessness  and  kindness  they  had  brought 
with  them  "because  she  was  staying  with  us  in 
the  hotel,  and  we  didn't  like  to  leave  her  alone  " 
—  glanced  now  and  then  at  Eichard  and  Toni 
through  the  veil  of  cigarette  smoke.  Eichard  was 
perfectly  absorbed.  His  rather  sallow  face,  with 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         249 

its  strong  lean  jaw  and  dark  glowing  eyes,  made 
a  perfect  contrast  to  Toni's  vital,  vibrating  charm ; 
there  was  even  something  proper  and  inevitable 
in  the  conjunction  of  these  two  creatures,  both  so 
young  at  heart,  so  full  of  curiosity  about  each 
other,  and  yet  both  presumably  old  enough  to 
accept  their  pleasure  in  each  other  on  its  true 
terms.  But  Lauder  had  not  much  time  or  atten 
tion  to  spare  for  them.  He  was  kept  busy  by  the 
strident  and  yet  somewhat  tolerable  vulgarities  of 
Matilda;  and  he  was  absorbed  by  a  change  that 
had  come  over  Elsa,  who  seemed  to  have  put  on 
with  her  elaborate  gown  and  jewelry  a  nature  dif 
ferent  from  the  directness  and  simple-heartedness 
she  had  shown  to  him  at  Barbizon.  There  was  a 
note  of  recklessness  and  exaggeration  in  her  gaiety 
which  did  not  suit  well  with  her  kind,  tender  eyes. 
She  surrounded  Lauder  with  a  hundred  gracious 
attentions;  built  up  around  him  a  little  fabric  of 
kindness,  and  then  knocked  it  to  pieces  by  some 
random  or  reckless  expression.  Upon  Matilda, 
whose  mind  still  dwelt  in  state  chambers,  uttering 
some  appreciation  of  Barbizon,  she  broke  in: 

"  Oh,  Barbizon  is  all  very  well,  but  it's  a  little 
too  dull  for  me.  One  gets  enough  dismal  and 
quiet  days  in  London,  Heaven  knows!  The  Cafe 
de  Paris,  or  the  Eat  Mort  —  that's  what  I  like; 
lots  of  fun  and  music  and  lights  and  excitement !  " 

"  You  didn't  seem  to  miss  them  yesterday,"  said 
Lauder. 


250  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

"  Well,  of  course  not,  you  silly ;  I  was  very 
happy.  But  after  all,  this  is  the  real  thing,  isn't 
it  ?  "  —  and  she  looked  at  him  with  a  flashing 
smile  that  puzzled  even  the  astute  Lauder.  All 
he  knew  was  that  she  was  a  woman  tormented  by 
all  her  circumstances;  and  yet  when  he  saw  how 
patiently  and  with  how  little  apparent  discomfort 
she  listened  to  Matilda's  gross  nonsense,  and  how 
calmly  she  heard  the  interminable  bubbling  prattle 
of  Toni,  he  marvelled  not  a  little  that  she  should 
be  capable  of  so  much  acquiescence. 

The  sixth  member  of  the  party  was  one  Marie, 
a  French  girl,  a  regular  frequenter  of  the  smart 
cafes,  a  stereotyped  edition  of  the  Parisian  cocotte. 
She  spoke  English,  in  deference  to  the  company, 
and  spoke  it  very  ill;  her  chief  topic  of  conversa 
tion  being  her  "  mudder,"  whom  she  had  either 
seen  the  day  before,  or  was  going  to  see  the  next 
day  —  no  one  could  make  out  which.  Dull, 
phlegmatic,  animal,  she  was  in  her  hours  of  ease 
a  far  from  interesting  person;  yet  she  too  had  a 
social  merit  most  surprising  to  the  ordinary  ex 
pectation  —  the  merit  of  self-effacement,  of  a 
modest  gratitude  at  being  entertained  where  she 
had  so  little  claim,  and  was  so  obviously  an  out 
sider.  She  ate  and  drank  everything  that  was 
given  her;  smiled  benignly  on  every  one;  and, 
except  when  regaling  the  company  with  anecdotes 
of  her  "mudder,"  kept  an  amiable  silence. 

But  beneath  the  social  veneer  of  this  odd  dinner- 


THE   HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         251 

party  lay  the  savage  grain  of  the  half-world.  In 
a  pause  of  the  conversation  at  his  own  end  of  the 
table,  Lander  turned  to  Eichard  and  Toni,  and 
found  that  they  were  evidently  talking  of  him. 
Toni  smiled  and  nodded  her  little  head  at  him 
till  the  flowers  in  her  hat  danced. 

"  I  like  you,  John,  my  dear,"  she  said ;  "  we 
both  say  we  like  you  very  much.  Only  this  silly 
boy  say  I  must  not  like  you  too  much.  I  think 
I  give  him  a  lesson:  come  here  and  give  me  a 
kiss." 

They  all  three  laughed;  but  Elsa,  with  an  up 
ward  jerk  of  her  chin,  said  to  Lauder: 

"  If  you  kiss  her  I'll  walk  right  out  of  the 
room." 

"  Oh,  nonsense,"  said  Lauder,  sharply.  He  re 
sented  the  threat,  and  its  tone;  it  was,  he  felt, 
unseemly ;  it  was  not  in  the  spirit  of  the  evening ; 
it  put  too  serious  a  color  on  the  butterfly  hues  of 
their  friendship.  "Why,  my  dear  Toni,  that's 
very  nice  of  you,"  he  said,  turning  to  her  laugh 
ingly  ;  "  I  think  you  owe  me  something,  you  know ; 
you  hardly  speak  a  word  to  me."  She  got  up, 
leaned  over  him,  and  kissed  him  on  the  cheek,  still 
laughing.  In  a  flash  Elsa  got  up,  took  her  opera- 
cloak  from  the  chair  where  it  was  lying,  and 
rustled  out  of  the  room.  Eichard  looked  after  her, 
puzzled ;  Lauder  did  not  move ;  Toni  burst  into  a 
merry  peal  of  laughter. 

"  Silly !  "  she  said;  "  she's  only  in  fun." 


252  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

But  the  watchful  Matilda,  anxious  above  all 
things  for  peace  and  conviviality,  was  of  another 
mind. 

"  You  don't  know  her,"  she  said  to  Lauder ; 
"  she's  always  up  to  some  nonsense.  Live  and  let 
live,  I  say.  Of  course  you  did  it  in  fun,  but  what's 
the  good  of  spoiling  your  dinner  because  of  a 
kiss?  /  don't  go  about  kissing  every  one,  do  I? 
And  yet  I'm  as  fond  of  it  as  any  one,"  added  the 
dame,  ruefully.  "  You  go  after  her  and  make  it 
up." 

"  Oh,  dear,  no,"  said  Lauder ;  "  I  never  do  that. 
If  she  wants  to  come  back  she'll  come ;  if  not,  I'd 
rather  she  would  go  where  she  wants  to  go." 

Marie,  who  was  Elsa's  friend,  got  up  and  said: 
"  I  go  for  her,  I  bring  her  back." 

"Oh,  don't  be  silly,"  said  Toni;  "she'll  come 
back  herself.  Why  is  she  such  a  fool  as  to  go, 
my  dear  ?  Leave  her  alone !  " 

Marie  turned  upon  her  a  face  of  sudden  ani 
mosity.  "  If  it  had  been  me,"  she  said,  "  I  would 
not  haf  gone,  I  would  have  scratch  your  face !  I 
go  for  her !  " 

Toni  smiled,  eying  Marie,  however,  with  no 
friendly  regard.  "  They  are  all  fools,"  she  said, 
turning  to  Kichard,  who  was  beginning  to  feel 
wretched  at  the  prospect  of  a  row.  "  My  dear,  I 
always  do  vhat  I  like;  if  other  peoples  not  like 
it  they  —  vhat  you  say  ?  —  lump  it !  "  And  he 
felt  that  what  she  said  was  true.  There  was  about 


THE   HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         253 

her  a  magnificent,  spoilt  impudence  that  did  not 
fear  to  offend  or  mortify  any  one.  She  went  to 
a  piano  that  was  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  and 
began  to  play  and  sing  a  little  song,  in  the 
midst  of  which  Marie  returned  with  Elsa,  who 
walked  up  to  Lauder,  made  a  feint  of  boxing  his 
ears,  and  sat  down  again  as  if  the  whole  thing 
had  been  a  joke  which  was  finished.  And  she 
joined  in  the  applause  when  Toni  had  finished 
her  song.  The  whole  incident,  which  was  for 
gotten  at  once  by  those  chiefly  concerned,  made 
a  lasting  impression  on  Eichard,  giving  him  a 
sense  of  discomfort  and  even  of  insecurity  in  his 
new-found  happiness.  To  be  plunged  thus  sud 
denly  out  of  friendship  and  conviviality  into 
strife  and  discord,  and  the  moment  after  to  see 
complete  harmony  restored,  was  to  realize  how 
unstable  are  the  foundations  of  the  anti-social 
life  —  how  incoherent  its  elements,  how  apt  for 
disintegration.  He  remembered  the  scene  of  the 
overturned  table  in  the  Eat  Mort,  and  the  scissors 
in  the  Bal  Tabarin;  and  he  seemed  to  see  the 
whole  of  this  world  of  pleasure  minuetting  upon  a 
treacherous  floor  of  false  polish  and  pretence. 
The  sea  of  life  upon  which  civilization  keeps  afloat 
in  the  iron  and  oak  of  its  conventions  is  here 
frozen  thinly  over  for  the  dance  on  its  surface; 
a  pause  in  the  dance,  a  too  intimate  congregation 
of  the  dancers,  too  much  weight  on  the  flimsy 
surface,  and,  crack!  down  you  go  for  a  souse  in 


254  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

cold  realities,  with  no  social  craft  to  save.  To 
keep  skating,  thought  Richard,  is  the  only  chance 
—  a  thing  pleasant  enough  as  a  pastime,  and 
before  it  has  become  a  life  sentence. 

The  dinner  was  a  great  success,  however;  every 
one  admitted  that;  and  as  the  ladies  knew  noth 
ing  of  Paris  except  a  few  milliners'  shops  and 
raffish  cafes,  it  was  decided  to  show  them  a  little 
of  Montmartre.  The  Cabaret  des  Neants,  in  par 
ticular,  appealed  to  their  imagination,  and  they 
sallied  out  in  high  expectation.  It  was  a  lovely, 
warm  night,  and  Lauder  proposed  that  they  should 
walk.  As  Toni  and  Elsa,  the  autocrats  of  the 
party,  both  agreed,  the  thing  was  carried  in  spite 
of  Matilda's  mild  protests;  and  they  set  out  two 
by  two  —  Richard  and  Toni  in  front,  Lauder  with 
Elsa,  and  Matilda  with  Marie. 

This  disposition  was  unfortunate,  for  it  cut  off 
Matilda  from  the  centre  of  interest,  and  gave  her 
time  to  consider  that  to  be  made  to  walk  was  an 
indignity  for  her.  The  quartette  in  front  were  far 
too  deeply  absorbed  to  think  of  her,  and  they 
crossed  the  boulevards  and  took  the  hill  at  a  fair 
pace.  The  result  was  that  when  they  arrived  at 
the  Place  Pigalle  and  waited  under  the  trees,  it 
was  a  ruffled  and  distempered  dame  who  greeted 
them. 

"  Here,  steady  on ! "  she  panted,  "  are  we  out 
for  a  pleasant  evening,  or  are  we  on  a  race-course  ? 
Because  I'm  not  entered  for  any  more  events.  Oh, 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         255 

it's  all  very  well,"  she  continued  when  they  laugh 
ingly  attempted  to  soothe  her ;  "  but  I'm  hot,  and 
out  of  breath,  and  I've  got  corns,  and  all  this 
romantic  under-the-moon  business  doesn't  amuse 
me.  Not  for  Jo !  I'm  not  doing  any  turtle-dove 
business,"  she  said,  eying  Toni  and  Elsa  con 
temptuously  ;  "  and  if  it  amuses  you,  it  doesn't 
me,  that's  all.  I  was  just  feeling  nice  and  com 
fortable  after  dinner,  and  now  I'm  all  anyhow ! " 

"  Come,  Matilda,  you  mustn't  spoil  our  happy 
party,"  said  Eichard ;  "  we  want  to  show  you  the 
corpses.  Keska-say-ka-sah  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  go  on ! "  said  the  dame,  a  little  mol 
lified;  "you're  daft,  you  are.  Well,  come  on, 
then;  I  suppose  we  can  get  a  drink  at  this  place 
of  worship  ?  " 

They  crossed  the  road  and  entered  the  Cabaret 
des  Neants  —  that  sordid  little  place  so  well 
known  to  travelling  Americans  and  to  the  natives 
of  Montmartre,  but  comparatively  little  known  to 
Englishmen  and  ordinary  Parisians.  The  place 
was  dimly  lit  by  tapers,  and  revealed  perhaps  half 
a  dozen  coffins  of  polished  wood  supported  on 
trestles,  tapers  stuck  in  the  lids,  a  bench  on  either 
side  for  the  accommodation  of  guests.  Their  en 
trance  was  greeted  by  a  dismal  intoning  on  the 
part  of  two  or  three  of  the  half-dozen  waiters 
dressed  in  the  black  livery  of  mutes,  who  began 
to  chant  the  De  Profundis.  Out  of  the  lighted 
street,  busy  with  its  evening  traffic  of  pleasure, 


256  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

into  this  ghastly  and  funereal  parody  was  but  a 
step;  yet  it  was  enough  to  shock  the  whole  of 
the  party  into  a  momentary  unpleasant  silence. 
They  took  their  places,  not  without  superstitious 
shudderings,  around  a  vacant  coffin,  and  one  of 
the  waiters  came  to  receive  their  orders.  The 
place  was  filling  up,  and  as  each  new  arrival  was 
ushered  in  by  the  porter,  the  mutes  had  to  break 
off  their  traffic  in  beer  and  money  to  take  up  the 
plain  chant. 

"  Un  franc  le  verre,  m'sieu,"  one  of  them  was 
saying  to  Lauder;  ""  six  francs  cinquante  —  merci, 
m'sieu;"  and  then,  as  the  door  opened,  raising 
his  voice  to  a  nasal  whine,  "  voici-les-morts  — 
De  pro-fund-is  —  Dom-in-e  clam  —  Void,  m'sieu, 
asseyez-vous  la,  s'il  vous  plait!"  and  on  again 
with  the  counting  of  change  and  serving  of  beer. 

Suddenly  Elsa  jumped  up.  "  I  can't  stand  it/' 
she  said ;  "  I'm  going  out."  She  had  turned 
rather  white;  and  indeed  there  was  a  musty  at 
mosphere  about  the  place  that  was  unpleasantly 
appropriate.  "  I'll  go  with  you,"  said  Lauder ; 
"  we'll  wait  on  a  seat  under  the  trees  for  the 
others."  Matilda  glowered  for  a  moment  at  this 
defection;  but  the  interest  of  her  own  sensations 
became  too  much  for  her,  and  she  was  soon  busy 
listening  and  looking.  When  the  dismal  little 
room  was  full,  the  door  was  shut  and  the  first  part 
of  the  entertainment  began.  The  dim  light  of  the 
tapers  on  the  coffins  was  obscure  enough  to  assist 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         257 

the  cheap  optical  illusion  by  which  the  pictures 
were  seen  to  fade  and  change  from  life  to  death. 
Skulls  glimmered  from  corners  of  the  ceiling; 
and  in  one  oil-painting  on  the  walls  a  man  and 
a  girl  seated  together  at  a  supper-table  turned, 
when  the  lights  were  manipulated  behind  them, 
into  grinning  skeletons.  It  was  memento  mori 
written  with  a  bibulous  tremor;  and  Eichard, 
who  had  often  enough  heard  of  the  place,  was 
appalled  by  the  triteness  and  vulgarity  of  the  spec 
tacle.  The  waiter-mutes,  with  their  play-acting 
chant,  the  coffins  and  trestles,  the  whole  game 
played  with  the  properties  of  an  undertaker's 
shop,  and  with  the  sexual  undercurrent  which  ia 
inseparable  from  any  Paris  entertainment,  was 
like  some  nasty  sport  of  vicious  and  overgrown 
children.  Matilda  was  quite  unimpressed;  she 
kept  up  a  running  commentary,  more  or  less  per 
tinent,  and  more  or  less  within  the  border-line  of 
Montmartre  propriety.  Toni  sat  by  Richard's 
side  perfectly  quiet,  extremely  interested,  and  ob 
serving  the  performance  with  that  merciless,  at> 
tentive  scrutiny  which  she  turned  on  anything 
new.  It  was  impossible  for  Richard  to  guess 
whether  she  was  pleased  or  not;  only  when  they 
had  crowded  through  the  musty  narrow  passages 
that  led  to  the  vault  in  the  rear  of  the  building, 
and  were  at  last  seated  in  the  damp,  ill-smelling, 
and  gloomy  cavern,  listening  to  the  strain  of  Dies 
Irce  wheezed  out  on  an  old  harmonium,  she  slipped 


258  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

her  hand  into  his  and  pressed  close  to  him.  She 
gathered  her  dainty  skirts  off  the  ground,  and  by 
the  dim  light  Richard  saw  her  looking  up  into 
his  face  with  a  dismayed  and  almost  tearful  ex 
pression  in  her  eyes. 

"  What  is  it,  little  one  ?  "  he  whispered. 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  it  is  so  sad,  solemn ;  br-r-r-r, 
it  makes  me  so  shudder !  And  oh,  my  dear,  do  you 
think  there  are  beetles?" 

She  was  only  half-reassured  by  his  laughing 
reply;  but  fortunately  her  attention  was  at  this 
moment  attracted  to  the  little  stage,  with  its  open 
coffin  standing  on  end,  into  which  the  usual  young 
man  from  the  audience  was  presently  induced  to 
mount.  There  was  a  day  when  the  ghastly  illu 
sion  by  which  the  features  of  the  person  standing 
there  are  seen  to  melt  and  dissolve,  his  body  fade 
and  become  blurred,  and  the  figure  of  laughing 
and  dissipated  youth  slowly  turn  into  a  skeleton, 
was  novel  enough  to  strike  terror  into  the  breasts 
of  the  audience;  but  every  one  is  familiar  with 
such  optical  trickery  now,  and  the  sight  was 
merely  ugly,  and  not  at  all  disturbing  except  to 
the  friends  of  the  young  man.  Then  came  a 
series  of  more  illusions,  practical  jokes  played  on 
members  of  the  audience  who  were  foolish  enough 
to  go  on  to  the  platform,  on  which,  themselves 
unconsciously  seated  on  a  chair  and  wondering 
when  the  joke  was  going  to  begin,  they  appeared 
to  the  audience  to  be  undressing,  or  going  through 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         259 

other  evolutions  —  some  of  them  cruelly  indecent. 
At  these  last  Matilda  clapped  her  hands  and 
laughed  until  the  tears  came  and  endangered  her 
complexion;  but  Toni  was  unconsciously  taking 
on  Eichard's  color,  and  was  a  little  revolted. 

"  No,  my  dear,"  she  said,  as  they  crowded  out 
again  through  the  dark  passages,  "  I  do  not  like 
it.  Things  funny  I  like,  and  things  naughty  I 
like,  and  things  pretty  I  like,  but  that  —  no,  my 
dear,  it  make  me  want  to  hold  my  nose.  Ugly! 
Oh,  how  I  hat e  ugly  things !  "  But  she  had  been 
sobered  and  impressed  more  than  she  realized; 
and  she  charmed  Eichard  by  showing  a  kind  of 
submissive  fondness  for  him,  a  desire  to  touch 
his  hand  and  keep  close  to  him  that  was  very 
foreign  to  her  usual  impersonal  detachment  and 
independence. 

They  found  Lauder  and  Elsa  seated  under  the 
trees  outside;  and  as  Matilda's  good  humor  was 
now  quite  restored  the  party  resumed  its  friendly 
and  harmonious  atmosphere.  Marie  met  a  friend 
outside  the  Cafe  Cyrano,  and  disappeared  from 
their  ken ;  the  others  wandered  along  through  the 
summer  night  looking  in,  now  at  a  cafe  to  satisfy 
some  momentary  whim  of  appetite,  now  at  a  cab 
aret  crowded  with  a  motley,  staring  throng  of 
Montmartre  sightseers.  Thus  they  visited  the 
Cabarets  de  VEnfer  and  du  del,  the  heaven  and 
hell  of  childhood,  with  their  devils  and  red  fire, 
angels  and  gold  paint,  blue  heaven  or  smoking 


260  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

pit-mouth.  Thus  they  visited  the  cabaret  of  Aris- 
tide  Bruant,  and  were  received  upon  their  en 
trance  with  somewhat  threadbare  witticisms,  and 
listened  for  a  few  minutes  to  the  monologue  of 
the  perspiring  entertainer,  who  was  wearing,  with 
a  far  from  happy  grace,  the  mantle  of  the  witty 
Aristide.  The  night,  as  Richard  looked  back  upon 
it,  was  a  blurred  remembrance  of  pleasant,  desul 
tory  strolling  through  streets  where  the  lamplight 
shone  on  the  chestnut  leaves,  of  occasional  dives 
into  the  monkey-house  atmosphere  of  a  cabaret, 
and  joyful  returning  to  breathe  the  balmy  night 
air;  of  the  continual  ordering  of  Bocks  which 
nobody  drank,  and  paying  admission  fees  for 
sights  which  nobody  looked  at;  of  a  thread  of 
laughter  upon  which  were  strung  brilliant,  unre- 
membered  witticisms;  of  a  golden  atmosphere  of 
youthful  happiness,  good  nature,  and  the  joy  of 
life  in  which  these  five  appeared  as  the  most 
wonderful  people  that  had  ever  lived,  who  said 
and  did  things  far  more  interesting  than  the  rest 
of  the  world. 

Two  hours  later  Lauder  and  Elsa,  Richard  and 
Toni,  were  driving  homewards.  They  had  all  gone 
for  supper  to  the  Rat  Mort,  where  the  arrival  of 
some  famous  cocotte  from  some  German  watering- 
place  had  provided  the  evening's  sensation  of  in 
terest  for  the  curious  community  that  frequents 
the  restaurant  on  the  hill.  Matilda,  however,  had 


THE   HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         261 

been  struck  with  sudden  misgivings  lest  she  should 
be  behaving  too  respectably,  and  so  damaging  her 
reputation;  and  she  had  indulged  in  so  much 
Kirsch,  and  had  gambolled  in  the  Rat  Mort  with 
so  much  vivacity,  that  the  others  had  been  glad 
to  comply  with  her  wish  and  leave  her  there,  the 
centre  of  an  area  of  explosive  laughter.  Even  in 
that  moment  she  was  not  intolerable;  as  Lauder 
had  once  said  of  her,  "  she  was  never  the  worse  for 
drink,  but  often  the  better."  Her  last  word  had 
been,  as  she  balanced  herself  at  the  top  of  the 
stairs  —  "  Well,  so  long,  boys !  Look  me  up  in 
London.  The  old  address,  you  know.  Bucking 
ham  Palace'll  always  find  me.  Keska-say-ka- 
sah?" 

But  although  they  left  early,  chiefly  out  of  con 
sideration  for  Lauder,  who  pleaded  his  early  start 
for  London  next  day,  the  atmosphere  of  the  Rat 
Mort  had  had  its  effect  upon  Toni.  She  was  her 
self  again;  she  shone  and  sparkled  and  rattled 
with  an  energetic  frivolity  that  drew  many  admir 
ing  eyes  on  her.  She  had  not  been  entirely  pleased 
at  leaving  the  Rat  Mort  while  the  noise  there  was 
still  at  its  height;  and  now,  as  they  drew  near 
to  the  Opera,  she  made  one  of  her  sudden  de 
mands. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  clapping  her  hands,  "  let  us 
go  to  the  Cafe  Americain !  It's  only  three  o'clock, 
my  dear ;  don't  let  us  go  home  yet !  It's  so  stupid. 
I  tell  you  vhat;  we  all  four  go  to  the  Americain 


262  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

—  such  fun,  and  such  clever  dancing  they  have 
there.     Come  along/'  she  pouted. 

"Why  not?"  said  Elsa  to  Lauder.  "It's  our 
last  night  —  what  does  half  an  hour  matter  ?  "  So 
the  driver  was  redirected,  and  in  a  few  minutes  they 
were  seated  in  a  corner  of  the  Cafe  Americain, 
amid  plush  and  mirrors,  looking  down  the  long 
room  and  listening  to  the  dance  music  of  the  inev 
itable  red-coated  band.  Toni  immediately  felt 
hungry,  and  chose  an  expensive  dish  from  the 
menu;  a  watchful  attendant  came  and  offered 
the  men  two  huge  bouquets  of  flowers,  which  of 
course  had  to  be  bought  —  not  because  any  one 
really  wanted  them,  but  because  they  were  expen 
sive.  So  they  sat  for  a  little  looking  down  that 
strange  first-floor  room,  with  its  strange,  silent 
couples  sitting  at  the  many  tables,  until  a  sudden 
unpleasant  sense  of  its  sombreness  struck  Eichard. 
It  was  the  first  time  that,  in  any  of  the  many 
places  devoted  to  folly  and  dissipation  which  they 
had  visited,  he  had  been  aware  of  any  impression 
of  evil;  but  here,  where  there  was  apparently 
nothing  to  suggest  it,  it  came  suddenly  home  to 
him.  A  few  tables,  perhaps  a  score  of  people 
having  supper  quietly  at  them;  every  one  very 
well  dressed  and  very  well  behaved;  the  whole 
flooded  with  light  from  well-shaded,  scarlet  lamps, 
and  music  from  the  scarlet  band  —  what  was  the 
matter  with  it,  and  whence  came  its  sinister  im 
pression?  There  was  the  usual  entertainment 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         263 

in  the  form  of  dances  provided  by  two  Spaniards 
—  very  ordinary  Spanish  dances  and  very  well 
danced;  there  was  not  the  smallest  suggestion 
of  impropriety  in  the  place  that  night,  from  the 
bland  and  episcopal  assiduity  of  the  head  waiter 
to  the  last  eyelash  of  the  most  expensively  dressed 
woman  there;  and  yet,  in  its  very  quietness  and 
decorum,  in  the  statuesque,  immobile  faces  of  the 
women,  with  their  oblique,  unflinching  eyes,  their 
polished  hair,  their  drooping  hats  and  gems  drip 
ping  fire,  there  lurked  the  very  essence  of  evil. 
Suddenly  Eichard  remembered  that  it  was  day 
in  the  world  outside;  that  somewhere  the  birds 
were  waking  and  beginning  to  sing,  or  flying  to 
dip  and  flutter  their  plumes  in  the  sky-reflecting 
water ;  that  somewhere  the  sun-shadows  were  lying 
long  on  dewy  lawns,  somewhere  the  sea-foam  was 
breaking  pink  and  gold  in  the  early  shine.  And 
here  the  close-shut  curtains,  the  crimson  light,  the 
white  satin  and  jewelry,  the  coiling  smoke,  the 
shining,  sphinxlike  eyes,  the  unending  glint  and 
bubble  of  wine !  A  man  sitting  alone  at  a  neigh 
boring  table  caught  Eichard' s  eye,  and  smiled  at 
him  with  a  silly,  hateful  smile;  and  with  that 
detestable  greeting  there  went  through  his  frame 
a  shudder  of  revolt.  He-  turned  to  Toni,  and 
suddenly  his  impression  changed,  and  he  saw  a 
meaning  in  the  whole  elaborate  scene.  She  was 
leaning  forward  with  her  elbows  on  the  table, 
her  eyes  shining  and  dancing  with  interest,  her 


264  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

pretty  hair,  in  its  loose  unstudied  coils  looping 
loose  over  her  forehead  —  eagerness,  youth,  vital 
ity,  beauty  in  every  feature.  The  room  became 
merely  a  setting  for  her,  the  people  there  lay 
figures  and  dummies;  and  while  his  eyes  rested 
on  her  Richard  knew  that  he  wished  to  be  nowhere 
else.  And  suddenly  she  turned  and  met  his  gaze; 
smiled  first,  and  then  continued  to  look  at  him 
with  a  beautiful  ardor  that  set  his  senses  swim 
ming.  A  mist  seemed  to  veil  his  eyes;  she  threw 
her  cigarette  down,  put  her  hand  in  his,  and  whis 
pered,  "  Let  us  go  home/' 

Lauder  stood  at  Elsa's  door  and  held  out  his 
hand. 

"  Good-by,  Elsa,"  he  said ;  "  you  have  been 
charming  to  me."  He  spoke  without  emotion,  and 
with  a  polite  smile  on  his  rather  tired  face.  She 
looked  haggard  and  beautiful,  and  carried  off 
easily  the  effect  of  her  extravagant  dragging  land 
scape  gown  and  picture  hat.  She  looked  down 
now,  breathing  quickly.  Lauder,  who  dreaded 
emotion  as  one  fears  infection,  had  overdone  his 
reserve,  and  brought  about  the  very  result  he  had 
hoped  to  avoid. 

"  Have  you  nothing  more  to  say  ? "  the  girl 
broke  out,  suddenly  throwing  up  her  head  and  look 
ing  at  him  from  under  her  long  lashes.  "  I  don't 
think  it's  very  nice  of  you  to  leave  me  like  this, 
after  all  we've  said  to  one  another."  She  opened 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         265 

her  door.  "  Come  in  here,"  she  said  with  an  im 
perious  gesture;  and  then,  as  Lauder  hesitated 
—  "  oh,  don't  be  ridiculous ;  I  won't  eat  you !  " 

Lauder  flushed  a  little,  pricked  by  the  element 
of  absurdity  in  his  reluctance,  and  followed  her. 
She  shut  the  door,  sank  into  a  chair,  and  burst 
into  tears. 

For  once  he  felt  rather  helpless,  being  now  in 
a  highly  false  position;  and  he  did  not  improve 
matters  by  putting  out  his  hand  and  stroking 
her  cheek  in  a  frigid  and  paternal  attitude.  At 
his  touch  she  sprang  out  of  the  chair  and  stood 
confronting  him  with  flashing  eyes. 

"  Don't  dare  to  touch  me ! "  she  cried,  dashing 
her  tears  from  her  eyes.  "  I  hate  you !  Oh,  how 
I  hate  you,  with  your  damned,  cold,  heartless  face ! 
You  can  have  everything  you  want,  you  can  come 
and  make  friends  with  me,  and  then  go  away; 
you  haven't  to  turn  from  this  to  take  up  a  life 
you  loathe  and  detest.  Why  did  you  ever  make 
friends  with  me?  Why  did  you  ever  talk  to  me, 
and  remind  me  of  things  I've  lost  and  can  never 
find  again?  Why  didn't  you  leave  me  as  you 
found  me,  or  else  —  "  and  she  stopped  and  looked 
at  him  with  a  new  regard.  "  I  wonder  what  your 
friendship  is  made  of,"  she  resumed.  "Am  I 
ugly?  God,  that  I  should  have  lived  to  tell  a 
man  that  I  loved  him,  and  to  be  driven  off  as 
though  I  were  infected !  Have  you  no  feelings 
at  all?"  Her  voice  broke  again,  tears  swam  in 


266  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

her  eyes,  and  she  held  out  her  arms.  "  Oh,  I  don't 
know  what  I'm  saying !  "  she  cried.  "  I  only  know 
that  I'm  lonely  when  you  aren't  there ! " 

"  Listen/'  said  Lauder,  taking  her  hands  in  his 
and  looking  into  her  eyes.  "  Don't  misunderstand 
me.  You're  worth  six  of  me,  and  if  I  could  help 
you  I  would.  You  say  I've  no  feelings :  my  God, 
do  you  know  what  you're  saying?  But  it's  my 
curse  that  I've  got  more  than  feelings,  as  you  have 
too.  Do  you  think  it's  been  easy  for  me  to  seem 
like  a  bear,  and  an  ungrateful  bear  at  that?  Do 
you  think  I  haven't  —  Look  here,"  he  broke  off : 
"  there's  only  one  thing  I  could  do  with  you,  and 
that's  rnarry  you.  If  I  were  ten  years  younger 
and  a  fool  I'd  do  it,  and  we'd  both  be  miserable. 
Well,  I've  just  got  pluck  enough  not  to  marry 
you  —  do  you  understand  that  ?  And  I  haven't 
got  pluck  enough  to  have  you  on  any  other  terms 
—  do  you  understand  that  ?  And  so  there's  noth 
ing  left  for  you  to  do  but  say  good-by  to  a  cow 
ardly  friend,  who's  not  even  enough  of  a  cow 
ard!" 

But  she  only  smiled  through  her  tears  and  put 
her  arms  around  his  neck.  "  Come,  coward !  "  she 
whispered. 

He  put  his  hands  over  hers  where  they  were 
clasped  on  his  neck.  "  ISTo,  no,  no !  "  he  said  with 
a  shaking  voice;  "you  will  at  least  have  one 
friend  who  thought  that  much  of  you." 

She  broke  away  from  him,  and  suddenly  flung 


THE   HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         267 

herself  on  the  bed  weeping.  He  stood  irresolute 
for  a  moment,  and  then  went  to  the  bed,  knelt 
beside  it,  and  put  his  arms  about  her.  Her  lovely 
head  fell  on  his  shoulder,  and  he  kissed  her  face 
and  comforted  her  with  whatever  words  came  to 
him.  As  her  sobs  became  quieter  he  sought  to 
disengage  his  arms,  but  she  clung  to  him  as  though 
he  were  some  rock  of  refuge  which  she  dare  not 
let  go.  "  Only  a  little  while,"  she  whispered ; 
"  let  me  hold  you  like  this  for  a  little,  and  then 
go ! "  So  they  remained,  their  .two  cheeks  wet 
by  her  tears,  both  their  bodies  shaken  by  her 
shuddering  sobs.  Presently  she  became  quieter. 
"  Now,"  she  said,  and  sought  his  lips  with  hers. 
She  pressed  one  long  kiss  on  them,  and  then, 
quickly  disengaging  herself,  turned  on  her  other 
side  and  buried  her  head  in  the  pillow.  He 
pressed  and  kissed  the  hand  that  hung  over  the 
bedside,  and  went  out  into  the  twilight  of  the 
landing.  Toni's  rippling  laugh  floated  up  to  him 
from  the  floor  beneath. 

He  found  Eichard  in  the  little  sitting-room, 
waiting  with  a  happy  face  until  Toni  should 
summon  him. 

"  Hullo,  old  chap,"  said  Eichard,  "  you  look 
tired  out.  Late  hours  don't  agree  with  you  as 
well  as  with  me." 

"  If  you've  got  a  few  minutes  to  spare,"  said 
Lauder,  "you  might  walk  around  to  the  hotel 


268  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

with  me.  I  don't  suppose  we  shall  see  each  other 
again." 

"  Are  you  really  going  by  the  9.45  ? "  said 
Kichard,  ignoring  Lauder's  assumption  that  he 
intended  to  remain.  They  were  once  more  in  the 
silent  streets  lit  with  the  pearly  light  of  a  summer 
morning. 

"  Yes,  I  must  be  in  London  to-morrow  evening. 
How  long  do  you  intend  to  stay  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Eichard ;  "  a  day  or  two 
at  the  outside."  He  was  puzzled  by  Lauder's 
silence  and  reticence,  and  a  little  resentful  that 
his  own  affairs  were  not  referred  to.  He  wanted 
Lauder  to  advise  him  either  to  go  home  that  morn 
ing  or  to  stay;  he  did  not  at  all  like  the  detach 
ment  of  Lauder's  manner.  They  walked  rapidly 
to  the  hotel  door,  and  there  Lauder  paused  and 
held  out  his  hand. 

"  You'll  let  me  know  when  you  are  coming 
back?  We  can  meet  in  town  and  talk  over  our 
reminiscences.  I  dare  say  I  shall  be  in  Cornwall 
again  later." 

"  Hang  it,  Lauder,  I  hardly  seem  to  have  spoken 
to  you  for  days  —  we've  been  so  much  occupied. 
I  wish  you  wouldn't  hurry  away  like  this.  Can't 
you  really  stay  for  a  day  or  two  ?  " 

"  No,  I  must  be  back ;  you  remember,  to-mor 
row  was  the  day  we  intended  to  return  all  along. 
And  I  don't  know  that  I  particularly  want  to 


THE   HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         269 

stay/'  he  added,  smiling.  "  You  know  my  theory 
about  anti-climaxes ! " 

"  I  don't  know  what  I'm  going  to  do  without 
you,"  said  Eichard,  rather  weakly.  "  There's  no 
time  to  talk  now,  but  —  " 

"  No,  of  course  there  isn't;  and,  besides,  there's 
nothing  really  very  pressing  to  talk  about,  is  there, 
friend  Eichard?  I  imagine  that  you  will  find  no 
difficulty  in  amusing  yourself  for  a  few  days. 
And  now  I  won't  keep  you.  Give  my  love  to  Toni 
when  she  wakes  up,  and  tell  her  that  she  will 
find  my  farewell  on  her  dressing-table." 

"  Look  here ;  don't  make  any  mistake  about 
Toni.  It's  not  —  well,  it's  not  what  you  might 
think  it  was.  It's  deadly  serious  on  both  sides  — 
perhaps  the  best  thing  of  its  kind  I  shall  ever 
know ;  and  I  can  assure  you  that  to  devote  myself 
to  her  seems  to  me  the  thing  absolutely  most 
worth  doing  in  the  world  at  this  moment" 

He  spoke  earnestly,  even  solemnly.  Lauder  put 
his  hand  on  his  arm  and  looked  into  his  face  with 
a  friendly  smile. 

"  Of  course  it's  serious  —  do  you  think  you  need 
tell  me  that  when  I  see  you  flying  to  her  arms  at 
five  o'clock  in  the  morning  ?  Off  you  go,  and  God 
prosper  you.  And  don't  you,  on  your  part,  make 
any  mistake  about  me,  dear  Eichard.  From  the 
bottom  of  my  heart  I  envy  you." 

They  parted  there,  Lauder  turning  into  his 
hotel,  Eichard  hurrying  back  to  the  Eue  de  Calais. 


270  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

His  brisk  footsteps  echoed  along  the  quiet,  empty 
street,  until  they  were  lost  in  its  silence  and 
merged  in  the  gathering  rumor  of  life  that  was 
sounding  in  the  neighboring  thoroughfares.  The 
mellow  sunshine  came  down  more  golden  and 
warm,  flooding  unheeded  past  the  rows  and  rows 
of  closed  houses  and  shuttered  windows,  where 
indoor  people,  prudent  and  foolish,  virtuous  and 
vicious,  just  and  unjust,  were  asleep.  But  under 
the  blue  summer  sky  with  its  cool  wisps  of  fleecy 
white  cloud  the  whole  outdoor  world  was  awake; 
and  everywhere  converging  on  Paris,  in  creaking 
cart,  behind  clattering  hoof,  in  tram-car  and 
railway-train  and  gliding  boat,  or  stirring  the  dust 
with  brave  footsteps^  came  in  that  salt  tide  of 
life  that  streams  forever  past  the  sands  and  shoals 
of  pleasure,  and  echoes  upon  the  rocky  shores  of 
Time.  Man  was  going  forth  to  his  work  and  to 
his  labor. 


VIII 

IN"  the  days  that  followed  Richard  Grey  tasted 
to  the  full  that  happiness  of  the  senses  which 
is  the  free  portion  of  all  those  who  can  abandon 
themselves  to  a  passion  without  misgiving  or  re 
serve.  The  world  slipped  away  from  him,  and 
left  him  alone  with  Toni  in  a  glittering  and  en 
chanted  pavilion  of  pleasure,  where  a  silent  but 
mighty  machinery  served  and  invisible  hosts  min 
istered  to  them,  while  their  ears  were  filled  with 
the  music  of  flutes  and  harps.  All  this  golden 
unreal  fabric  of  joy  sprang  into  being  with  his 
love  for  Toni,  which  grew  with  every  hour  he 
spent  with  her,  until  he  wondered,  sometimes  with 
a  shudder,  what  was  left  in  the  world,  or  what  life 
consisted  of,  but  her.  All  the  force  and  concen 
tration  of  his  strong  nature  was  bent  upon  her, 
so  that  even  she  was  swept  off  her  feet  and  carried 
along  with  him  in  the  tide  of  passion.  It  was 
a  wonderful  time;  and  something  in  his  heart 
(or  was  it  his  head?)  told  Richard  to  enjoy  it 
while  he  could;  that  it  was  of  its  very  nature 
transient  and  fleeting;  that  the  abiding  things 
of  life  were  of  grayer,  sterner,  more  sombre 
271 


•2?2  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

fabric,  and  that  no  one  could  weave  of  this  gold 
and  gossamer  a  garment  able  to  stand  the  wear 
and  fret  of  real  life.  Perhaps  he  recognized  that; 
perhaps  not;  at  any  rate  he  threw  himself  with 
ardor  into  the  cultivation  and  enjoyment  of  this 
new  and  strange  gift  of  destiny. 

How  they  passed  the  days,  how  many  days  there 
were  of  passionate  unclouded  happiness  he  could 
never  remember;  all  he  knew  was  that  the  hours 
went  to  a  dance,  that  he  sunned  himself  in  her 
smile,  delighted  in  and  feasted  on  her  beauty,  and 
that  every  trite  and  commonplace  saying  of  the 
poets  was  brought  to  pass  in  him.  She  on  her 
part,  as  he  swept  her  out  of  herself  by  the  sheer 
strength  of  his  devotion,  grew  more  charming  and 
more  happy.  The  little  white  bottle  was  no  more 
touched;  she  began  to  look  healthier  and  even 
more  brilliant,  and  she  became  less  feverish  in  her 
pursuit  of  pleasure.  Quieter  things,  shared  with 
him,  interested  her;  and  though  every  night  was 
as  a  matter  of  course  spent  at  one  of  the  smart 
cafes  which  are  the  home  or  club  of  such  as  they, 
the  afternoons  were  spent  much  out-of-doors, 
and  in  places  where  something  else  than  vice  was 
thought  of.  They  visited  Versailles,  and  spent 
a  long  sunny  afternoon  wandering  in  its  empty 
painted  chambers,  or  in  the  stillness  and  dignity 
of  its  great  garden  vistas ;  they  visited  Chantilly, 
St.  Cloud  —  all  the  outdoor  expeditions  within 
reach  of  Paris.  Somehow  they  kept  to  Paris, 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         27 3 

which  seemed  like  a  home  to  them;  its  great 
bright  fagades,  its  wide  thoroughfares  and  busy, 
expensive,  heartless  life  seemed  not  heartless  to 
them,  but  kind  and  beneficent.  Everything  was 
done  as  a  matter  of  course,  extravagantly;  car 
riages  and  motor-cars  were  in  commission  for 
them  all  afternoon  and  half  the  night;  and  Kieh- 
ard  soon  recognized,  and  accepted  with  easy  acqui 
escence,  the  fact  that  Toni  was  never  really  happy 
unless  money  was  being  spent  on  her.  In  the 
retrospect  of  these  days  he  seemed  to  himself  to 
be  continually  paying  for  something,  to  be  con 
tinually  calling  mattres  d'liotel  to  bring  him  bills, 
and  paying  them  with  hundred-franc  notes,  the 
change  out  of  which  was  too  inconsiderable  to  be 
taken.  He  even  caught  from  Toni  the  trick  of 
appraising  the  desirability  of  things  entirely  by 
their  price  in  money,  and  of  ordering  by  instinct 
the  most  expensive.  In  four  days  he  was  amazed 
to  find  that  he  had  spent  nearly  a  hundred  pounds 
—  how,  he  had  no  idea.  After  her  one  expression 
of  pity  for  what  she  regarded  as  his  penurious 
circumstances,  Toni  had  no  mercy  on  him  —  or 
rather,  it  never  occurred  to  her  that  mercy  under 
the  circumstances  was  a  possible  idea;  gold  was 
as  necessary  to  her  existence  as  air,  and  must  be 
as  easily  forthcoming.  Richard  was  not  embar 
rassed  by  his  extravagance,  for  in  his  ordinary 
quiet  life  he  never  spent  any  money  at  all,  and 
his  salary  went  to  swell  a  quite  respectable  balance 


274  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

at  the  bank;  nor  had  it  any  wasting  or  loosening 
effect  upon  him,  as  it  might  have  had  on  some 
men.  He  was  much  too  thorough  and  compre 
hensive  in  his  ideas  to  give  the  thing  a  thought, 
once  he  had  realized  that  it  was  expected  of  him; 
and  though  he  took  no  great  pleasure  himself  in 
his  new  environment  of  highly  artificial  and 
merely  symbolic  luxury,  it  was  a  point  of  honor 
with  him  to  provide  it.  He  was  even  interested 
and  amused  to  see  how  easily  money  could  be 
spent,  and  how  little  there  was  to  show  for  it. 
His  absorption  in  Toni  was  the  crowning  de 
light  and  very  real  worth  of  these  golden  days. 
Her  strange,  obscure,  wonderfully  fashioned,  toid 
badly  flawed  personality,  so  storm-tossed  on  the 
frothy  waves  of  pleasure,  seemed  for  the  time  to 
have  came  to  an  anchor  in  the  calm  shelter  of 
Kichard's  love,  like  some  pretty,  rakish  pirate 
ship  that,  after  long  and  adventurous  voyages  on 
the  high  seas,  engagements  with  rich  merchant 
men,  capturing  of  dyes  and  silks  and  treasure, 
and  trafficking  with  spice  islands,  now  careens  in 
the  sunny  quiet  of  some  landlocked  harbor.  She 
opened  to  him  like  a  flower,  and  disclosed  strange 
treasures  of  brain  and  character,  that  made  him 
love  her  the  more,  and  filled  him  at  the  same  time 
with  a  kind  of  passionate  pity.  Just  as  her  ex 
quisite  beauty  was  flawed  by  the  mouth  of  vampire 
redness  and  cruelty,  so  everything  in  her,  every 
thought,  impulse,  desire,  and  passion  she  had, 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE   SANDS         275 

seemed  to  be  flawed  also.  She  was  like  some 
fragile  casket  of  gems,  shocked  or  jarred  by  a 
seismic  disturbance,  of  which  the  rare  contents 
are  found  when  it  is  opened  to  have  suffered  a 
similar  jar  or  damage  from  the  shock.  At  first 
Eichard  was  hardly  conscious  of  the  flaws  —  he 
was  too  much  taken  up  with  the  discovery  of 
the  treasures  themselves.  Her  quickness  of  mind, 
her  absolute  cleverness,  were  almost  uncanny;  for 
some  things,  for  basenesses,  doubtful  motives,  any 
thing  that  threatened  herself  or  anything  belong 
ing  to  her,  her  perception  was  of  a  like  quickness, 
precise  and  unfailing;  but  for  more  noble  quali 
ties  she  had  no  instinct.  Nevertheless  she  be 
longed  essentially  to  that  intellectual  minority 
that  exists  like  a  scattered  brotherhood  throughout 
the  world ;  she  was  one  of  those  who  understand ; 
"  she  belongs,"  as  Eichard  had  said  to  Lauder 
after  his  first  long  talk  with  her.  The  wittiest 
and  profoundest  man  in  the  world  would  have 
found  her  a  delightful  and  fascinating  companion ; 
the  most  cruel  would,  in  some  of  her  moods,  have 
recoiled  from  her  terrible  heartlessness  and  raven 
ing  selfishness.  Yet  she  was  not  without  a  heart 
to  love  and  be  loved,  and  in  her  moments  of 
melting  she  was  the  more  adorable  for  her  former 
coldness  and  detachment.  When  she  was  cold  she 
was  unapproachable;  when  she  was  kind  she  was 
irresistible,  and  she  whirled  Eichard  continually 
between  the  frigid  pole  of  abstinence  and  the  very 


276  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

equator  of  passion.  When  they  came  home  to 
gether  she  would  sometimes  torment  him  by 
coldness  and  aloofness,  telling  him  that  she  was 
tired  and  must  be  left  alone,  and  so  dismiss  him; 
only  to  come  into  his  room  half  an  hour  afterward 
and  yield  herself  to  him  with  the  sweetest  gener 
osity  and  kindness.  She  was  never  immodest, 
where  modesty  is  a  virtue;  in  circumstances 
where  it  can  be  dispensed  with  she  knew  how  to 
substitute  for  it  an  abandonment  so  charming 
that  her  lover  had  no  difficulty  in  reconciling  him 
self  to  the  change.  In  a  word,  she  had  the  art 
of  love  at  her  finger-tips,  and  knew  when  not  to 
practise  it.  No  wonder  if  Eichard  went  into 
bondage  to  her  fascinating,  changing  personality; 
no  wonder  if,  like  so  many  conquerors,  he  fell 
into  slavery  to  that  which  he  had  captured.  But 
so  long  as  she  was  pleased  and  happy  there  was 
no  shadow  on  his  love. 

The  first  symptom  of  a  change  came  one  day 
when,  having  almost  exhausted  his  ideas  of  enter 
tainment  for  her,  Eichard  thought  of  taking  her 
to  dine  at  the  Tour  d' Argent,  and  getting  Frederic 
to  improvise  a  dish  for  her.  Anything  famous, 
or  that  was  the  right  thing  to  do,  always  appealed 
to  her;  and  as  they  were  going  to  a  performance 
of  "Tannhauser"  (which  Toni  had  never  heard) 
at  the  Opera  afterward,  they  set  out  early  to  drive 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE  SANDS         277 

along  the  riverside  to  the  little  cafe  near  Notre 
Dame. 

"  This  is  nice,"  she  said,  as  they  drove  along 
the  Quai  Voltaire.  "  I  have  not  been  here  before. 
Vhat  are  all  those  little  boats  doing?  Vhat? 
Oh,  I  love  to  go  in  a  boat,  Richard,  my  dear;  let 
us  get  a  boat  and  sail  on  the  river,  vhat?  Not 
for  sail.  Well,  then,  we  go  somewhere  to-mor 
row  where  we  sail.  Oh,  how  hungry  I  am !  Do 
I  look  nice?  Vhat,  you  like  my  frock?  Good 
boy,  you  are  beginning  to  learn  something.  You 
teach  me  many  things;  I  teach  you  somesings 
too;  I  teach  you  not  to  admire  cheap  frocks  or 
bad  style  —  Vhat  ?  I  make  you  laugh  at  your 
English  ladies  with  all  their  lace  and  colors  and 
bad  finish  to  everysings." 

"  Why,  you  vain  little  peacock,  you  think  nobody 
knows  how  to  look  nice  but  yourself ! " 

"  You  are  nearer  right  than  you  think,  my 
dear.  You  say  exactly  the  right  word.  Lots  of 
womens  is  nice;  lots  of  womens  can  look  nice; 
not  so  many  know  how  to  look  nice !  But  vhere 
are  we  going?  This  is  a  —  vhat  you  say?  —  low 
neighborhood,  slum,  shabby.  I  thought  this  cafe 
was  a  famous  place,  vhat  ?  " 

"Yes,  so  it  is;  all  the  Americans  go  there; 
they  —  " 

"  Oh,  my  dear,"  broke  in  Toni,  going  off  at  a 
tangent ;  "  I  tell  you  somesings  so  funny.  The 
Americans  —  how  they  make  me  laugh.  An 


278  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

American  I  meet  once  at  Biarritz,  he  say  to  me, 
'Toni,'  he  say,  'I  give  —  '" 

"  Toni ! " 

"Vhat?" 

"  Don't  talk  of  such  things ;  you  promised  not 
to.  I  hate  to  be  reminded  of  them/' 

"  Silly  boy !  You  are,  vhat  you  say  ?  —  senti 
mental.  Poor  boy !  "  she  continued  with  diabolical 
intention,  "he  like  to  pretend  he  is  the  only 
person  Toni  has  ever  spoken  to.  And  all  the  time 

—  oh,    you    make    me    laugh ! "      And    she    did 
laugh,  her  clear,  ringing,  rather  heartless  laugh. 

Richard's  brow  darkened.  "  Hang  it,  Toni, 
there  are  decencies,  anyhow.  You  might  have  the 
grace  not  to  mention  the  others  to  me.  One  would 
think  you  were  proud  of  them." 

He  spoke  with  the  intention  of  making  her 
ashamed,  forgetting,  for  the  moment,  the  perfect 
justice  of  her  views  on  such  matters. 

"  Proud  ?  I  don't  understand,  my  dear.  Vhy 
should  I  be  proud,  or  not  proud?  It  has  nothing 
to  do  with  proud.  It  is  my  business,  my  dear,  as 
you  very  well  know.  That  is  my  business,  and 
you  are,  well,  you  are  my  —  vhat?  —  my  play 
time  !  No  one  is  proud  of  his  business,  but  I " 

—  she  slipped  her  hand  into  his  and  looked  side 
ways  at  him  with  a  conciliating  smile  —  "I  am, 
oil,  so  proud  of  my  playtime.     I  love  my  play 
time  !" 

"  Toni,  dearest,  don't  say  it's  only  play.     Tell 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE  SANDS         279 

me  it's  earnest,  dead  earnest;  tell  me  you  love 
me  in  earnest." 

"  Silly  boy !  I  tell  you  no  such  nonsense.  You 
speak  too  seriously,  when  you  ought  to  speak  — 
how  you  say?  on  surface.  The  surface  is  a  good 
place  for  talking  before  dinner,  my  dear;  some 
other  time  I  go  underneath  and  —  show  you  in 
stead  of  tell  you.  Vhat?" 

The  cloud  passed,  but  Toni  returned  to  the  sub 
ject  of  their  riverside  drive,  of  which  she  ceased 
to  approve.  As  they  approached  Notre  Dame  the 
picturesqueness  of  the  neighborhood  lost  its  charm 
for  her,  and  she  began  to  criticize  it  from  the 
point  of  view  of  fashion. 

"  Look  here,  my  dear,  I  tell  you,  no  chic  people 
will  come  here.  Vhat?  I  don't  believe  it,  my 
dear.  Look,  there  are  no  carriages,  no  anything. 
Don't  let  us  go  here;  let  us  turn  and  go  to  Cafe 
de  Paris !  " 

"  No,  of  course  not :  when  we've  come  all  this 
way  I'm  not  going  to  let  you  turn  back  and  miss 
it.  Why,  don't  you  want  to  say  you've  had  a 
special  dish  invented  and  called  after  you  by  one 
of  the  most  famous  chefs  in  Paris  ?  " 

"  All  right,  my  dear,"  said  Toni,  somewhat  mol 
lified  but  looking  ruefully  at  her  delicate  pink 
gown;  "but  I  am  quite,  quite  sure  it  is  not  a 
smart  place  —  truly !  " 

They  went  through  the  little  outer  hall  into  a 
small  square  room  where  so  many  wonderful 


280  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

dishes  have  been  eaten.  It  was  certainly  a  shabby 
place  compared  with  the  gilded  luxury  of  the 
fashionable  cafes.  An  uncarpeted  floor,  and  ab 
sence  of  flowers  and  decoration,  a  rather  greasy 
air  of  gluttony,  a  sprinkling  of  unfashionably 
dressed  French  and  American  diners,  with  the 
great  Frederic  himself,  living  up  to  his  reputation 
of  looking  like  Ibsen,  busy  over  his  hot  table  and 
presses,  aided  by  two  untidy  and  perspiring  wait 
ers.  There  was  a  general  air  of  heat  and  untidi 
ness  in  the  room,  and  Toni  looked  unhappy,  and 
held  her  dainty  garments  well  off  the  floor  as  she 
tripped  across  to  the  table  that  had  been  reserved 
for  them.  They  were  the  only  people  in  evening 
dress  —  a  fact  which  seemed  to  shock  her;  and 
they  attracted  some  little  notice  from  the  silent, 
gormandizing  groups  at  the  tables  around  the 
walls.  But  the  flattering  attentions  of  the  great 
impressionist  chef  made  a  diversion;  and  when 
the  "  sole  Toni "  arrived  in  its  wonderful  culinary 
toilet  she  was  enchanted,  and  forgot  the  dingy 
surroundings.  The  interest,  moreover,  of  seeing 
Frederic  making  innumerable  dishes  of  caneton 
a  la  presse  was  so  prolonged  that  it  furnished 
entertainment  throughout  the  rest  of  the  meal. 
The  deft  way  in  which,  as  one  duck  after  another 
was  brought  to  him  all  brown  and  hissing,  he  laid 
his  knife  under  the  flesh  and  with  a  few  masterly 
strokes  removed  all  the  meat;  the  crushing  of 
the  carcass  beneath  the  hand-press,  and  the  spout 


THE  HOUSE    ON   THE  SANDS         281 

of  blood  and  essence  or  juice  of  duck  from  the 
little  tap;  the  making  of  this  juice  into  a  won 
derful  sauce  that  kept  simmering  and  bubbling 
over  the  spirit-lamps,  and  was  gradually  ladled 
over  the  whole  savory  dish  —  these  were  fascinat 
ing  sights,  and  absorbed  the  attention  of  every 
one  in  the  room.  The  greedy  feasters  kept  their 
eyes  fastened  on  Frederic,  and  became  intoxicated 
by  the  sight  of  the  succession  of  ducks  coming 
hot  from  the  kitchen;  and  as  each  party  was 
served,  the  one  next  in  order  sighed  and  licked 
its  lips,  and  wondered  whether  its  duck  would  be 
just  such  another  juicy  one  as  that  which  was  now 
swum,  in  sauce  of  its  own  substance  and  providing, 
down  the  throats  of  the  fortunate  ones. 

They  had  been  sitting  some  time  in  silence  re 
garding  this  drama  of  the  stomach  when  Eichard 
noticed  that  Toni's  eyes  were  fixed  in  a  gloomy 
and  unfamiliar  expression. 

"Anything  the  matter,  little  girl?"  he  asked 
her,  at  the  same  time  putting  out  his  hand  to  hers 
under  the  table.  She  drew  her  hand  away  from 
his  touch,  and  continued  to  look  darkly  away, 
without  speaking. 

"  Toni,  dear,  what  is  it  ? "  he  asked  again. 
"  Has  anything  gone  wrong  ?  " 

She  turned  her  eyes  slowly  upon  him;  and  in 
them  now  there  shone  an  angry  light. 

"  I  tell  you,  I  am  offended,  very  much  offended, 
that  you  bring  me  to  this  place.  It  may  be  all 


THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

you  say,  but  why  are  there  no  smart  people  here? 
Look  at  these  low  people !  I  believe  it  is  a  com 
mon  eating-house !  I  like  not  such  places !  " 

He  was  at  first  too  much  surprised  to  say  any 
thing;  afterward  he  was  too  much  revolted  and 
offended  by  her  base  suspicion  that  he  had  taken 
her  to  a  cheap  place  and  pretended  it  was  dis 
tinguished  to  try  to  explain.  They  sat  looking 
at  each  other,  these  two,  across  a  chasm  that  had 
suddenly  opened  between  them.  Toni  had  lost 
her  hold  on  Eichard's  comradeship  and  congenial 
ity;  she  merely  saw  herself  as  one  who  had  been 
inveigled  out  of  her  proper  environment,  an  alien 
in  a  strange  country  which  she  did  not  know, 
and  in  which  her  professional  language  was  not 
spoken;  and  a  sense  of  antagonism,  which  had 
only  been  dormant  under  the  fascination  of 
Richard's  personality,  woke  up  in  her  now.  Every 
fibre  of  her  being  resisted  and  rebelled  against 
the  set  of  ideas  that  brought  her  to  such  a  place ; 
she  felt  a  nostalgia  for  the  scenes  of  glitter  and 
gaiety  to  which  she  belonged,  for  the  sight  of  her 
own  kind,  and  the  sound  of  their  voices;  she 
hated  the  superiority,  the  arrogance,  whether  of 
intellect  or  taste,  that  in  a  place  like  this  set  itself 
up  against  the  dominion  of  mere  money  and 
vicious  convention;  and  she  felt  that  she  almost 
hated  Richard,  as  the  representative  of  it.  He 
for  his  part  was  mortified  by  her  gross  discontent, 
and  thoroughly  shocked  by  her  revolt.  He  had 


THE   HOUSE   ON   THE   SANDS         283 

deliberately  shut  his  eyes  to  her  tastes  and  pro 
clivities,  and  he  resented  her  forcing  them  open 
to  see  her  as  she  was.  Of  course  he  had  set  up 
an  image  of  her  in  his  mind  to  worship,  and  of 
course  he  hated  the  reality  which  was  suddenly 
substituted  for  it.  Silently  he  called  for  the  bill 
(which  was  not  entirely  despicable  in  its  amount) 
and  put  Toni  into  the  waiting  carriage. 

In  that  blank  and  paralyzed  silence  which  fol 
lows  an  apparition  of  reality  to  people  living  in 
illusion  they  drove  along  the  lighted  quais  to  the 
Opera.  Once  Eichard  stole  a  side  look  at  Toni. 
She  was  sitting  up  very  straight  beside  him,  defi 
ance  in  the  poise  of  her  head  and  in  the  cold,  alert 
shining  of  her  eyes.  Her  brow  was  slightly 
knitted,  and  he  wondered,  with  a  kind  of  bitter 
longing,  what  was  going  on  in  that  mysterious 
mind  of  hers;  and  when  he  saw  how  hard  she 
looked,  and  how  capable  of  resolve,  he  fell  into 
a  kind  of  panic  for  his  happiness.  To  chase  that 
terrible,  cold,  merciless  look  from  her  face  became 
an  absolute  necessity  for  him ;  yet  he  found  noth 
ing  to  say,  and  realized  that  of  all  the  thoughts 
which  were  surging  in  his  brain  not  one  could  be 
communicated  to  the  woman  at  his  side.  She 
would  not  understand;  for  when  a  woman  who 
has  melted  to  us  freezes  again,  there  seems  to  be 
no  fire  or  steel  in  us  able  to  penetrate  her  veil  of 
coldness. 

They  were  a  little  late  at  the  Opera,  and  took 


284  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

their  seats  just  as  the  curtain  was  rising  on  the 
Venusberg  and  on  that  moment  when  Tann- 
hauser  awakens  and  begins  to  look  about  him  — 
an  eternal  situation.  Both  sensitive  to  the  power 
of  music  and  drama,  the  beauty  of  this  music- 
drama  gripped  and  held  them  both  from  the  very 
beginning.  Gradually  Kichard  forgot  his  troubles, 
and  was  absorbed  in  the  struggle  between  the 
charms  of  Venus  and  Tannhauser's  growing  dis 
content.  Toni  was  absorbed  too  —  partly  by  the 
essential  interest  of  the  drama,  partly  by  a  semi- 
professional  interest  in  Venus  and  her  berg,  not 
unmingled  with  contempt  for  an  affair  so  lament 
ably  mishandled  by  the  lady.  But  as  the  music 
flowed  on,  and  one  maze  of  dances  followed 
another,  and  as  the  scene  began  to  work  up  to 
its  climax,  Eichard  and  Toni  began  to  enjoy  it 
too  much  to  remain  at  enmity;  as  their  unex 
pressed  sense  of  companionship  in  enjoyment 
grew,  their  sense  of  animosity  died  away;  and 
when  at  the  name  of  Mary  the  whole  Venusberg 
vanished  in  a  clap  and  the  spring  meadows  ap 
peared  in  its  place,  Toni  turned  and  put  her  hand 
in  Richard's,  looked  at  him  with  shining  eyes, 
and  whispered,  "  My  dear,  how  beautiful !  "  He 
thrilled  to  her  touch,  and  forgave  her  in  one  look 
of  tenderness,  and  together  they  watched  the  mists 
rising  from  the  valley,  and  that  exquisite  early 
morning  scene,  fresh  and  sweet  and  fragrant  after 
the  nightmare  of  the  Venusberg,  unfolding  itself 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE  SANDS         285 

to  quiet  music  that  is  like  a  dream  of  dew  and 
spring  flowers. 

Thereafter  the  atmosphere  was  bright  and  sunny 
again,  as  though  that  mock  convulsion  of  the  stage 
had  indeed  broken  up  and  chased  away  the  clouds 
that  had  darkened  their  happiness.  Toni's  hand 
rested  in  Richard's,  both  of  them  happy  with  a 
new  happiness  that  was  partly  the  enjoyment  of 
music  and  drama,  and  partly  a  sense  of  relief  and 
healing  at  the  safe  passing  of  the  cloud  that  had 
threatened  them.  Together  in  mind  and  spirit, 
more  than  they  had  ever  been  since  their  first 
meeting,  they  watched  the  play  unrolling  itself 
like  a  painted  banner;  together  thrilled  at  the 
swelling  song  of  the  pilgrims  as  they  passed  bow 
ing  before  the  Virgin's  shrine;  together  watched 
Tannhauser  set  forth  happily  on  his  journey. 
Between  the  acts  their  tongues  were  loosened,  and 
Eichard  was  delighted  to  find  Toni's  curious 
searching  intelligence  bent  in  criticism  of  a  thing 
of  the  mind.  She  had  her  views  about  Tann 
hauser.  "  I  have  seen,  oh,  so  many  like  him, 
Richard,  my  dear !  He  is  a  nice  boy,  but  no  good. 
He  doesn't  know  vhat  he  wants;  now  he  want 
Venus,  and  when  he  is  with  Venus,  he  want,  oh, 
he  long  for  that  beautiful  Elisabeth  with  the 
golden  hair!  And  when  he  has  Elisabeth  he 
thinks  he  is,  oh,  so  happy;  but  all  the  time  he 
think  of  Venus,  and  want  to  go  back  to  her." 
Later  she  said :  "  They  all  sing  too  much.  Venus, 


286  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

she  sings,  and  is  so  busy  with  her  top  note  that 
she  does  not  see  how  —  vhat  you  say  ?  —  bored 
Tannhauser  is,  and  she  loses  him.  Then  Tann 
hauser  sings  instead  of  going  home  and  marrying 
that  pretty  girl,  and  the  other  people  come  when 
he  is  singing.  Then  they  all  sing,  and  Tann 
hauser  gets  so  bored  he  sings  something  naughty 
and  shocks  them ;  and  then  the  pilgrims  sing,  and 
he  goes  off  with  them  —  anywhere,  my  dear,  to 
get  away  from  that  pretty  Elisabeth  and  her  aunts 
and  uncles !  Then  his  uncle  —  vhat  you  say  ?  that 
old  man  with  the  beard  and  harp  —  he  could  have 
put  things  right;  but  instead  all  the  time  he 
sings,  and  poor  Elisabeth  catches  cold  listening 
to  him.  And  vhen  Tannhauser  does  come  back, 
and  they  ought  to  have  put  him  to  bed,  they  let 
him  sing  until  he  dies.  All  dead  of  singing,  my 
dear ! " 

They  were  very  happy,  and  in  that  softened 
frame  of  mind,  the  pretty  delusion  of  lovers,  in 
which  all  that  they  see  and  hear  is  applied  to 
themselves.  It  was  they  who  were  separated,  in 
sorrow  and  penitence,  amid  the  littered  splendors 
of  the  Hall  of  Song  from  which  Tannhauser's 
indiscretions  had  banished  the  scandalized  court; 
it  was  their  love  that  touched  the  sad  autumn 
wayside,  with  its  shrine  and  evening  light,  with  a 
-memorable  glory;  it  was  for  them  that  Wolfram, 
mock-harp,  tow-beard,  paraphernalia  of  German 
romantic  pseudo-mediaeval  costume  and  all,  sang 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE  SANDS         287 

to  the  evening  star,  and  Elisabeth  scanned  with 
anxious,  tearful  eyes  the  wayworn  company  of  re 
turning  pilgrims. 

They  are  fortunate  who  first  know  a  great  work 
of  art  when  they  are  under  the  empire  of  an  emo 
tion —  no  matter  what.  Some  such  preparation 
is  necessary  to  weld  together  and  stamp  with  truth 
what  long  ago  was  the  heavy  labor  of  him  who 
created  it ;  just  as  the  glow  and  ebullition  of  their 
own  lives  made  for  these  two  a  great  and  moving 
thing  of  what  Richard  Wagner  long  ago  in  Paris, 
poor  and  struggling,  and  distracted  by  a  thousand 
anxieties,  toiled  at  with  pen  and  keyboard  and 
brain.  The  great  theatre  was  for  them  filled  with 
a  golden  atmosphere  through  which  the  beautiful 
illusion  shone  upon  them  kindly. 

The  quarrel  was  not  referred  to  in  words.  They 
had  supper  quietly  at  Voisin's,  and  went  home 
early,  but  Toni's  eyes  shone  kindly  on  Richard, 
and  she  gave  him  one  of  her  rare  expressions  of 
herself.  He  was  sitting  in  a  chair,  and  she  was 
standing  and  looking  down  on  him  with  her  hands 
on  his  shoulders.  Something  in  his  face,  the  ap 
peal  of  the  love  that  she  saw  there,  perhaps  awed 
even  her  armored  heart. 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  why  do  you  love  me  so  much  ? 
You  make  me  say  vhat  I  am  ashamed  of." 

"What  ia  it,  dear  one?  "  he  whispered. 

"  Richard,  I  tell  you  that  I  love  you  —  oh,  more 
than  a  little!" 


288  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

He  folded  her  in  his  arms  and  they  forgot  the 
terrible  cloud  of  antagonism  that  had  hovered 
over  them.  Foolish  hearts !  Like  careless  travel 
lers  who  escape  from  the  threatening  storm-cloud 
and  walk  on  under  a  starry  sky,  they  forgot  that 
it  is  not  only  what  lies  before  us  that  is  to  be 
feared,  but  what  lies  behind,  in  seed-furrow,  per 
haps  to  come  to  its  deadly  harvest,  or  in  that  same 
calm  sky  in  which  no  clouds  threaten,  but  which 
holds  and  renders  again  whatever  it  has  drawn  to 
itself. 


IX 


IN  the  sleep  of  the  intelligence  and  the  wakeful 
pleasures  of  the  senses  that  were  his  life  with 
Toni  Richard  became  conscious  of  a  change.  At 
first  it  was  only  when  he  was  with  her  that  he  was 
perfectly  happy;  away  from  her  he  was  conscious 
of  a  criticism,  too  slight  to  be  called  a  revolt,  that 
seemed  to  examine  with  doubt  the  worth  of  his 
happiness.  But  as  day  after  day  glided  past  in 
the  now  familiar  round  of  luxurious  pleasures 
this  disposition  was  reversed.  The  antagonism 
that  had  shown  itself  at  the  Tour  d'Argent,  and 
which  they  had  suppressed  so  successfully  at  the 
Opera,  showed  itself  again  and  repeatedly,  and 
each  time  with  more  assurance,  as  a  more  definite 
thing  and  one  less  easily  to  be  smothered.  The 
effect  of  it  was  that  there  were  continual  differ 
ences  of  opinion  between  the  two,  at  first  upon 
little  things,  and  afterward  upon  any  matter  ad 
mitting  of  opinion  that  cropped  up;  so  that  the 
hours  they  spent  together  began  to  be  darkened 
by  little  bitternesses,  silences,  woundings  of  one 
another's  feelings,  and  all  the  miserable  fruits  of 
dissension.  Yet  when  he  had  left  her  Richard 
289 


290  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

would  be  filled  with  remorse,  take  himself  to  task 
for  his  lack  of  patience,  his  selfishness  even.  Had 
not  he  everything  he  wanted  in  the  world?  And 
was  not  her  life,  whatever  the  luxury  of  its  ex 
ternals,  hard  and  unpleasant  enough  without  his 
marring  this  season  of  holiday  that  had  come 
into  it?  Thus  when  he  was  away  from  her  he 
saw  her  only  as  some  one  to  be  loved  and  cher 
ished  with  every  tenderness  and  patience;  he  saw 
her  virtues,  her  warm  living  personality,  and  for 
got  the  black  pit  of  selfishness  that  lay  beneath; 
and  he  longed  to  return  to  her,  so  that  he  might 
show  her  how  much  he  loved  her.  Yet  as  soon 
as  they  were  together  the  same  root  of  bitterness 
would  spring  up.  Each  was  trying,  unconsciously, 
to  mould  the  real  into  the  likeness  of  the  ideal; 
each  was  striving  to  graft  upon  what  of  the  other 
was  apprehended  and  loved  a  finished  creature 
of  his  or  her  own  sort.  Eichard  loved  Toni  for 
her  gaiety,  her  charm,  her  beauty  of  form  and 
proportion,  her  intelligence;  and  these  he  tried 
to  take  and  enjoy  and  to  ignore  the  rest  of  her, 
which  was  just  as  real  and  as  much  alive,  although 
it  did  not  minister  to  his  happiness.  She  loved 
the  courage  and  enterprise,  the  manly  whole- 
heartedness  of  Eichard;  what  he  wanted,  she 
thought,  was  a  little  more  gaiety  and  a  little  less 
reserve.  On  her  stock  of  adventuress  and  cocotte 
he  would  have  grafted,  if  he  could,  all  the  domestic 
virtues,  a  nunlike  fastidiousness,  and  God  knows 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE  SANDS         291 

what  of  emotional  and  intellectual  paradox;  of 
him,  still  retaining  his  subtle  simplicity  and  his 
firm  hold  on  life,  she  would  have  made  a  man- 
about-town,  raffish  and  prone  to  occasional  alco 
holic  excess.  And  as  each  pulled  the  harder  in 
one  direction,  the  other  resisted  the  more  firmly, 
and  began  to  pull  the  opposite  way;  so  that  the 
cord  of  affection  that  bound  them  became  stretched 
very  tight,  and  in  danger  of  breaking  under  the 
strain. 

In  all  intimacy  there  is  education,  and  we  can 
not  love  without  learning.  It  is  hard  to  say 
which  of  these  two  learned  the  more  from  their 
union  —  Eichard  who  sought,  or  Toni,  who  re 
sisted,  its  lessons.  In  all  her  life  hitherto  of 
adventure  and  social  privateering  she  had  been 
treated  as  a  beautiful,  costly  toy,  a  thing  of  price, 
indeed,  but  of  no  value;  and  she  had  learned  to 
keep  herself  and  her  heart  hidden  and  to  use  coun 
terfeits,  just  as  she  kept  her  pearls  and  diamonds 
at  the  bank  and  wore  paste  imitations  of  them. 
Pearls  and  diamonds,  however,  do  not  corrupt  nor 
waste  away;  though  in  darkness  the  pearls  may 
grow  dim,  use  will  soon  restore  their  lustre  again. 
But  the  soul  is  perishable  and  dies  of  neglect  — 
a  poor  thing,  when  we  take  it  out  of  its  dark 
wrappings  and  let  the  unwonted  daylight  shine 
on  it !  Toni  found  it  hard  work  to  be  herself, 
or  rather  to  be  the  self  she  might  once  have  been, 
and  the  effort  was  only  possible  to  her  so  long  as 


292  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

she  found  it  necessary  to  her  happiness  with 
Kichard.  She  had  played  so  many  parts  in  her 
short  life  that  she  was  quite  accomplished  enough 
to  take  the  role  of  herself;  the  only  point  was, 
did  she  want  to?  She  soon  found  that  she  did 
not;  that  after  so  long  an  experience  of  postur 
ing,  it  was  fatiguing  to  be  natural,  and,  worse 
still,  it  was  dull.  The  profound  suspicion  of 
everything  and  everybody  which  is  characteristic 
of  the  cocotte  turns  to  a  swift  antagonism  when 
the  suspicion  seems  to  have  been  justified;  and 
Toni  soon  became  aware  of  Eichard's  persistent 
pull  on  her.  It  was  instinctive  on  his  part;  un 
consciously  he  dragged  her  from  her  anchorage 
on  the  shoals  of  pleasure,  and  tried  to  moor  her 
out  in  his  own  philosophic  deeps.  But  poor  Toni 
had  not  cable  enough  to  hold  her  there,  or  she 
was  not  constructed  to  ride  easily  in  these  waters; 
as  a  seaman  might  say,  she  was  "  not  bluff  enough 
in  the  bows,  she  had  too  much  run  aft ; "  and  she 
had  shipped  several  seas  of  discomfort  and  dis 
pleasure  before  she  slipped  her  moorings  and 
drifted  in  again  to  better  holding-ground.  When 
they  spoke  of  conduct,  for  example,  Eichard  was 
often  charmed  by  the  justice  and  clearness  of  her 
views ;  but  let  her  pursue  the  subject  long  enough, 
and  she  would  reveal  a  perfect  heartlessness  and 
cruelty.  Once  they  were  speaking  of  her  maid, 
an  elderly  German  woman,  who  had  been  Toni's 
nurse,  and  who  had  followed  and  served  her  faith- 


THE   HOUSE    ON   THE   SANDS         293 

fully  through  all  her  changing  life.  Richard  was 
quite  fond  of  her,  and  heard  with  surprise  that 
Toni  intended  to  send  her  away. 

"  What,"  he  said,  "  send  her  away  after  all  these 
years?  What  on  earth  for?" 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  she  becomes  too  much  a  good 
thing.  She  stay  too  long  with  me  already,  I 
think;  she  begins  to  command  me.  Vhat  you 
think  ?  She  say  to-day,  '  Madame,  I  cannot  allow 
that  you  wear  that  pink  silk  dress  again,  so  I  have 
put  it  away ! '  I  tell  you  I  was  angry,  oh,  my 
dear,  I  never  was  so  angry  in  all  my  life ! " 

"  Well,  but  you  don't  get  an  honest  woman  like 
that  every  day.  Besides,  think  of  all  the  years  she 
has  looked  after  you,  dear.  I  should  hate  to  think 
of  you  going  about  without  old  Anna  to  look  after 
you.  You  know  she  adores  you,  and  would  die 
for  you." 

"Rubbish,  my  dear.  I  get  lots  of  people  to 
adore  me  for  thirty  pounds  a  year.  When  any 
one  is  with  you  for  so  many  years  it  is  time  to 
send  them  away.  You  get  fond  of  them,  or  they 
grow  ill,  and  then  you  have  to  keep  them.  No, 
my  dear,  Anna  has  just  gone  a  little  too  far  with 
me;  I  send  her  away,  and  get  a  smart  French 
maid  in  her  place.  I  tell  you  they  know  some 
thing,  those  girls ! " 

The  combination  of  worldly  wisdom  and  utter 
heartlessness  of  this  decision  was  significant  of 
her  whole  attitude ;  and  the  tears  of  her  old  serv- 


294  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

ant,  at  which  she  laughed  contemptuously,  availed 
nothing.  It  was  no  business  of  Eichard's,  but  he 
could  not  help  a  rather  sharp  remonstrance  with 
her  for  what  he  regarded  as  flagrant  ingratitude. 

"  Gratitude,  my  dear  ?  you  make  me  laugh. 
Vhat  is  this  always  that  you  say  of  duty  and  grat 
itude?  I  do  not  know  them,  my  dear;  I  ask  not 
gratitude  from  any  one,  and  I  ask  not  vhat  you 
call  kindness ;  and  duties  —  I  do  not  know  them. 
They  are  for  servants." 

Before  a  front  of  such  callous  assurance,  what 
could  he  do  but  abandon  remonstrances  founded 
on  a  set  of  ideas  which  she  was  incapable  of  under 
standing?  So  he  gave  ground,  or  seemed  to  give 
it;  but  in  the  secret  ledger  account  which  we  all 
keep  with  our  friends,  and  in  which  we  uncon 
sciously  enter  every  incident  of  human  relation 
ship,  Kichard  posted  such  capitulations  to  Toni's 
debit.  True  love,  we  are  told,  keeps  no  such 
reckoning;  but  it  is  probably  more  just  to  say 
that  while  love  exists  they  are  never  cast  up,  and 
the  balance  is  never  struck.  But  the  items  lie 
there,  indelibly  entered  upon  the  pages  of  mem 
ory;  and  woe  to  the  lover  who  adds  up  the  sum 
of  his  love  and  finds  it  wasted  and  himself  in 
solvent  because  of  the  greater  sum  of  drawings 
on  his  happiness ! 

Toward  this  unhappy  day  of  reckoning  was 
Eichard  now  hurrying.  In  the  meantime  he  paid, 
and  paid  handsomely.  It  was  he  who  always  gave 


THE  HOUSE   ON  THE  SANDS         295 

in,  he  who  accommodated  himself  to  Toni's  whims 
and  fancies,  he  who  made  the  necessary  sacrifices 
when  they  disagreed.  He  made  them  deliberately 
and  with  his  eyes  wide  open.  He  loved  Toni  so 
much  that  he  allowed  nothing  that  he  could  con 
trol  to  obscure  or  interfere  with  his  love.  When 
she  was  exigent  or  selfish,  he  remembered  how 
the  idea  of  foregoing  anything  or  of  making  any 
concession  had  never  entered  her  thought  or  life. 
When  she  was  unkind,  he  remembered  how  unkind 
the  world  was  ready  to  be  to  her  the  moment 
she  ceased  to  minister  to  its  pleasures;  when  she 
was  greedy  or  impatient,  he  remembered  her  hand- 
to-mouth  existence,  that  she  was  laying  up  no 
treasures  of  happiness  for  herself,  nor  any  cumu 
lative  result  in  life,  and  that  to  snatch  at  what 
she  could  get  while  she  could  get  it  represented 
the  only  possible  wisdom  of  her  existence.  Thus 
he  excused  her,  and  applied  the  varnish  of  his  love 
to  the  cracks  and  flaws  in  her  character,  so  that 
if  they  could  not  be  mended  they  should  at  least 
be  hidden  from  him.  And  as  he  thus  became  less 
selfish,  and  as  he  continually  asked  less  and  gave 
more,  his  love  for  her  broadened  and  deepened, 
seeming  to  grow  but  the  stronger,  as  love  will, 
on  a  discipline  of  fasting  and  sacrifice. 

The  last  time  he  saw  her  at  her  best,  when  she 
was  the  Toni  of  the  Barbizon  holiday,  was  the 
afternoon  when  he  took  her  to  the  Salon.  With 


296  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

a  genuine  consideration  for  him  she  had  dressed 
very  quietly  in  a  black  dress  and  a  big  black  hat 
with  pale  roses  crushed  between  the  brim  and  her 
hair. 

"  I  must  not  disgrace  you/'  she  said ;  "  no 
one  shall  know  what  I  am;  only  they  will  turn 
and  say,  '  Oh,  look  at  the  Englishman  and  his 
pretty  wife  —  no,  his  French  cousin ! ' ' 

And  certainly  more  than  one  admiring  glance 
was  cast  on  the  beautiful  girl  who  walked  so 
sedately  with  him  through  the  crowded  galleries. 
Her  playing  of  the  part  was  perfect,  and  not  in 
the  least  overdone;  indeed  she  was  almost  her 
natural  self  in  these  gay  and  beautiful  surround 
ings,  and  Eichard  had  never  so  much  admired 
or  delighted  in  her.  Her  eyes  were  everywhere; 
on  the  pictures,  on  the  fashionable  Parisian 
women,  on  the  foreigners,  on  Eichard,  to  see  if  he 
approved  of  her  behavior.  She  walked  slowly 
about,  slim  and  small,  and  yet  imposing  in  her 
rich  and  sober  dress;  she  took  in  the  pictures 
with  a  directness  of  criticism  and  intelligence 
which  was  in  delightful  contrast  to  the  dull  regard 
of  the  ordinary  eye-wearied  frequenter  of  exhibi 
tions.  What  did  not  interest  her  she  had  the  art 
of  not  looking  at,  even  of  not  seeing;  what  she 
liked  she  recognized  at  once,  and  various  indeed 
were  the  reasons  of  her  likes  and  dislikes.  The 
blue-purple  landscapes  of  Eaffaelle,  the  Parisian 
impressionism  of  Veber,  Willette,  and  Gruillaume 


THE   HOUSE    ON   THE  SANDS         297 

(whose  pictures  seemed  unaccountably  familiar  to 
her) ;  Caro-Delvaille's  portrait  of  Mme.  Edmond 
Rostand,  in  which  she  traced  a  faint  resemblance 
to  herself ;  Sargent's  "  Duchess  of  Sutherland  " 
—  these  all  seized  her  attention  and  provoked  her 
criticism,  which,  if  it  was  more  concerned  with 
humanity  than  with  technique,  was  not  the  less 
piquant  and  interesting  for  that.  But  two  tilings 
that  held  and  mesmerized  her  were  above  all  the 
rest.  De  la  Gandara's  portrait  of  Mile.  Polaire 
caught  her  eye  as  she  entered  the  gallery  in  which 
it  was  hung,  and  she  walked  straight  up  to  it 
and  stood  confronting  it.  Richard  could  not  help 
noticing  and  delighting  in  the  contrast  —  the  ex 
quisitely  poised  figure  of  the  danseuse  with  her 
gown  of  filmy  heliotrope,  her  olive  skin  and  long, 
passionate  eyes,  and  the  fair-skinned,  black- 
gowned,  gold-crowned  Toni  standing  motionless 
before  the  canvas,  her  face  composed  in  a  pro 
found  calm  of  contemplation,  and  looking  as 
though  she  too  had  walked  out  of  a  picture. 

But  Zuloaga's  "  Mes  Cousines "  had  an  even 
more  arresting  effect  on  her.  They  were  idly 
sauntering  along  in  front  of  the  pictures  when 
Richard  heard  something  like  a  little  cry,  and 
found  her  gazing  at  the  Spaniard's  dark  canvas, 
her  lips  parted,  her  breath  coming  quickly.  The 
dense  and  yet  luminous  color,  the  dreamlike  qual 
ity  of  the  landscape  in  the  background,  as  clear 
and  definite  as  a  thing  seen,  as  unreal  as  a  thing 


298  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

only  remembered,  the  three  tall,  dark  women  with 
their  black  shining  eyes  and  bright  yet  melan 
choly  attire,  all  the  vitality  of  sunshine  in  the 
attitudes  that  were  nevertheless  like  sudden  and 
alert  movement  struck  into  the  stillness  of  death; 
before  this  masterly  and  bizarre  creation  she  stood 
entranced.  Eichard  spoke  to  her,  but  she  did  not 
hear  him;  and,  indeed,  upon  him  too  the  three 
bold,  dark  women  were  throwing  their  spell.  They 
stood  there  in  silence  for  a  long  time;  but  even 
when  they  moved  away  Toni's  eyes  remained  on 
the  picture  as  though  they  were  fastened  to  it. 
She  walked  through  the  galleries  in  a  dream,  and 
presentl}r  Eichard,  who  had  turned  to  look  at  a 
small  water-color,  missed  her  from  his  side,  and 
saw  her  disappearing  through  the  door  leading 
to  the  room  in  which  the  Zuloaga  was  hung.  It 
was  though  the  thing  had  really  hypnotized  her. 
She  stood  again  before  it,  her  eyes  travelling  again 
and  again  over  every  inch  of  the  canvas,  as  though 
she  were  trying  to  commit  it  to  memory;  and 
when  at  last  they  turned  to  leave  the  room  she 
went  back  once  more,  as  one  turns  to  take  fare 
well  of  the  dead.  Her  eyes  were  shining. 

"  I  shall  never  see  it  again,"  she  said.  "  I  know 
I  shall  not;  but  oh,  my  Eichard,  how  I  love  that 
I  have  seen  it!  Once  things  like  that  happen, 
but  not  twice  —  never  twice." 

As  they  were  walking  down  the  staircase,  she 
suddenly  stopped  and  said: 


THE  HOUSE   ONTHE  SANDS         299 

"  They  are  like  this  -And  this  —  and  one  like 
this  — "  making  threeP°s^ures  in  rapid  succes 
sion,  in  which  the  ii/ividuality  of  each  of  the 
three  women  in  the  /ctures  was  wonderfully  re 
produced.  It  was  dpe  so  lightly  that  it  attracted 
no  attention  —  the  People  around  them  merely 
thought  she  was  Baking  to  Eichard;  but  with 
the  slightest  inclinaion  of  the  head  and  ohlique 
direction  of  the  eye  the  three  poses  were  per 
fectly  mimicked.  Echard  tried  to  get  her  to  do 
it  again,  but  she  wruld  not;  in  fact,  as  soon  as 
they  were  outside  the  building  she  seemed  to  have 
forgatten  about  it,  and  to  be  interested  only  in 
tea. 

He  had  hoped  that  her  quiet,  grave  charm  of 
the  afternoon  was  a  sign  of  the  return  of  her 
old  sell  and  of  reawakening  interest  in  things  of 
some  dignity;  but  in  this  he  was  disappointed. 
As  though  the  repression  of  her  other  self  during 
the  afternoon  had  been  too  heavy  a  strain  upon 
her,  sle  went  in  the  eveaing  to  the  other  extreme ; 
chatted  incessantly  about  nothing  at  all  through 
out  dinner;  and  that  night  at  the  Eat  Mort  so 
distinguished  herself  by  her  noisy  brilliancy  as 
to  attract  a  great  deal  more  attention  than  Eich 
ard  liked.  She  spoke  to  several  men  she  knew, 
and  even  danced  the  " cake-walk"  with  one  of 
them  in  the  small  hours  after  the  general  public 
had  gone  and  the  restaurant  was  left  to  the  occu- 


V 

300  THE  SANDSyp  PLEASURE 

pation  of  the  kind  of  ^formal   demi-mondaine 
club  which  had  its  heaouarters  there.     Richard 
was  torn  between  wounde  pride,  shame,  aid  the 
basest  kind  of  primitive  jilousy;    he  couli  not 
help  watching  and  admirin^  Toni  as  she  floited 
about  between  the  ugly  pardes  of  the  so-ca'led 
dance;    but  to  see  her  in  tit  close  embrace  of 
another  man  sickened  him.    Nevertheless  he  said 
not  a  word  of  reproach;    W  was  determined  :o 
accept  the  conditions  of  the  Tsorld  he  was  in ;   aid 
he  knew  that  Toni  thought  aothing  of  such  in 
act,  although  some  of  her  m»re  discreet  friends 
were  watching  Eichard  to  see  how  he  would  lake 
it.    He  gave  no  sign,  however;  sat  calmly  smok 
ing  his  cigarette,   and,  when   she  had  frashed, 
smiled  and  applauded  witt  the  rest.    And  le  had 
his  reward  in  the  knowleige  that  Toni  knev  per 
fectly  well  what  he  had  leen  feeling,  and  admired 
him  for  his  forbearance  with  what  was  a  purely 
mischievous  caprice;   an  I  she  made  it  up  to  him 
by  a  very  attractive  devotion  afterward.     Never 
theless  Eichard  had  suffered,  in  spite  of  his  un 
troubled  countenance,  hellish  tortures  of  sensual 
jealousy;    and  he  realized  that  such  scenes  could 
not  be  repeated  with  safety  to  their  happiness. 
He  could  see  that  the  close  companionship,  the 
fact  that  they  were  never  separated  for  more  than 
an  hour  or  two,  was  telling  on  her  nerves;    and 
he  resolved,  not  without  misgivings,  to  try  a  dif 
ferent  plan.     When  he  left  her  that  morning  he 


THE  HOUSE    ON   THE   SANDS         301 

told  her  that  he  would  leave  her  to  herself  for 
the  day,  as  she  had  some  shopping  to  do,  and  that 
he  would  call  for  her  in  the  evening  and  take 
her  to  dine  at  Paillard's,  where  he  promised  that 
she  would  be  among  the  smartest  of  smart  people. 

He  felt  a  little  lonely  without  her,  wondered 
longingly  what  she  was  doing,  and  counted  the 
hours  until  he  could  join  her  again.  He  spent 
the  afternoon  ransacking  the  shops  of  collectors 
on  the  south  side  of  the  river  in  order  to  get  a 
present  that  should  be  worthy  of  her  beauty  and 
his  love.  Even  in  this  matter  of  a  present,  how 
ever,  his  fundamental  opposition  to  her  was  re 
vealed.  He  knew  very  well  that  some  showy  orna 
ment  of  diamonds  or  pearls  was  what  would  please 
her  best,  and  yet  he  rebelled  against  the  thought 
of  diamonds  and  pearls.  She  had  a  good  many 
already,  and  he  did  not  allow  himself  to  think  of 
where  they  had  come  from;  at  any  rate  he  was 
determined  that  his  gift  should  not  be  made  in 
that  glittering  but  dismal  currency.  Generous 
and  easy-going  in  matters  of  this  kind  as  he  was 
by  nature,  he  was  for  once  less  concerned  that  his 
gift  should  be  what  she  liked  best  than  that  it 
should  represent  his  ideas  of  what  he  would  like 
her  to  like;  it  was  not  Toni,  but  the  creature  of 
his  imagination  bearing  her  name  whom  he  sought 
to  please  and  adorn.  Therefore  he  searched  long 
and  critically,  rejecting  many  beautiful  things  as 


302  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

not  beautiful  enough,  until  he  discovered  a  won 
derful  old  necklace  of  paste  and  uncut  emeralds 
in  an  intricate  cobweb  setting  of  the  thinnest 
silver.  It  was  an  exquisite  ornament,  designed 
in  the  days  of  patient  lavishness,  and  had  not  im 
probably  been  displayed,  and  perhaps  not  in  vain, 
for  the  eye  of  Napoleon  himself.  It  was  worth 
nearly  as  much  as  Richard  paid  for  it,  and  that 
was  a  sum  which  would  have  purchased  many  dia 
monds  and  pearls.  But  this  had  none  of  the  com 
monplace  glitter  of  the  jewelry  of  commerce;  it 
could  never  be  mistaken,  he  thought,  for  the  price 
of  fugitive  pleasures;  it  looked  like  what  it  was 
—  a  love-gift,  designed  with  art,  wrought  with 
skill,  sought  for  and  chosen  with  anxious  care. 
He  thought  of  how  it  would  rest  on  the  fair  satin 
of  her  neck,  and  he  realized,  not  without  satis 
faction,  that  its  beauty  was  of  a  kind  that  must 
reign  alone,  and  could  not  be  blended  with  exam 
ples  of  a  baser  art. 

When  he  called  for  her  at  eight  o'clock  she  was 
not  ready,  and  Eichard  was  surprised  to  hear  from 
Anna  that  she  had  only  got  up  an  hour  before. 
Madame  had  been  asleep  all  day :  no,  she  was  not 
unwell,  only  she  was  very  tired,  and  (to  judge  by 
the  traces  of  tears  on  Anna's  face)  had  been  more 
than  usually  exigent  in  the  matter  of  dressing. 
If  Heir  Eichard,  as  she  called  him,  would  sit 
down  in  the  drawing-room  and  smoke  a  cigarette, 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE  SANDS         303 

madame  would  not  keep  him  long.  Eicliard  sat 
down  and  lit  the  cigarette,  wondering  what  in  the 
world  could  have  kept  the  restless  Toni  in  bed  all 
day.  She  had  been  complaining  of  all  the  things 
she  had  to  do,  and  all  the  shops  she  had  to  visit; 
and  yet  she  had  not  been  out  of  her  room  all  day. 
A  sudden  thought  flashed  in  his  mind;  surely  the 
little  white  bottle  had  not  been  in  use  again  ?  He 
thought  it  unlikely,  for  she  had  lately  seemed  quite 
free  from  the  nervous  indisposition  which  had 
driven  her  to  it  in  the  first  place;  yet  the  idea 
was  definite  enough  in  his  mind  to  prevent  him 
saying  anything  about  her  not  having  been  out. 
The  case  containing  the  necklace  was  ready  in  his 
pocket;  but  there  was  not  time  to  give  it  her 
now;  he  did  not  want  to  present  it  in  a  moment 
of  hurry;  and  he  decided  to  keep  it  until  later 
when  they  would  be  alone  together  and  he  could 
tell  her  something  of  what  he  wanted  it  to  mean 
to  her. 

She  came  at  last,  all  in  a  flutter  and  flurry,  and 
jingle  of  chains  and  glitter  of  jewelry;  she  was 
dressed  all  in  white,  with  a  big  white  hat;  and 
although  she  looked  tired  and  had,  contrary  to 
her  usual  custom,  applied  a  touch  of  color  to  her 
cheeks,  Eichard  thought  she  had  never  looked 
more  bewitching. 

"  My  poor  boy,"  she  said,  as  she  kissed  him,  "  I 
have  kept  you  waiting  so  long !  but,  my  dear,  you 
haf  no  idea  how  tired  I  was ;  I  never  was  so  tired 


304  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

in  all  my  life  —  really.  Now  we  go  along  to 
Paillard's  and  be  happy.  I  am,  oh,  so  hungry !  " 
And  she  gave  a  long  account  of  how  she  had  meant 
to  get  up,  but  had  felt  so  sleepy  that  she  didn't, 
and  how  she  had  slept  until  the  afternoon,  and 
then  had  a  headache  and  thought  it  better  not  to 
get  up  at  all  until  it  was  time  to  dress,  that  lasted 
until  they  were  seated  at  a  corner  table  which  the 
polite  but  anxious-looking  Claude  had  decorated 
for  them  with  his  own  hands.  The  dinner  had 
been  very  carefully  chosen;  the  desir  de  roi  was 
worthy  of  the  house,  and  was  greatly  appreciated 
by  Toni,  especially  when  she  heard  its  name;  the 
Romance  Conti  was  in  perfect  condition,  and  the 
old  Tuileries  brandy  was  worth  nearly  what  it 
cost  —  which  was  just  about  its  weight  in  gold. 
Yet  the  dinner  was  not  a  success;  it  was  in  fact 
a  failure  from  the  very  start;  and  no  amount 
of  make-believe  could  keep  Richard  from  admit 
ting  it  to  himself.  He  did  his  best  to  amuse  Toni, 
but  she  would  not  be  amused;  she  talked  very 
little,  was  more  than  usually  occupied  with  her 
appearance,  and  when  she  did  listen  or  speak  to 
her  companion,  she  listened  and  spoke  as  one 
whose  thoughts  are  elsewhere,  and  who  does  not 
even  take  the  trouble  to  hide  the  fact.  She  looked 
about  her  a  great  deal  and  was  interested  in  the 
toilets  of  the  other  fair  diners;  but  the  little 
room  does  not  hold  many  people,  and  she  had  soon 
exhausted  that  interest.  The  quietness  of  the 


TJ.^  JUSE   ON   THE  SANDS         305 

place  opp^d  her  after  the  noisiness  of  the  cafes 
she  genery-  frequented ;  she  was  less  at  her  ease 
than  usua  and  when  the  dark-eyed  chef  d'or- 
chestre  dea^ed  from  the  little  alcove,  and  began 
to  play  t&QT)  she  so  far  forgot  herself  as  to 
smile  boldl^ck  at  his  ogling  glances.  Eichard 
paid  him  ardent  him  away,  at  which  she  scolded 
him  with  aiinpieasant  gleam  in  her  eye  that 
made  him  ra\r  hopeless  of  the  farce  he  was  try 
ing  to  play  'ough.  Matters  came  to  a  head 
when,  follGwi  the  frequent  direction  of  her  eyes, 
he  saw  that  e  was  looking  at  an  elderly,  fat, 
and  extremeljepulsive  man  who  was  dining  with 
a  Mend  at  aear  table.  He  was  staring  imper 
tinently  at  heencouraged  no  doubt  by  the  inter 
est  she  seeme^o  take  in  him. 

"What  a  deous  old  beast,"  said  Eichard. 
'Don't  look  ;  him,  dear;  don't  you  see  he's 
saring  at  you  Damn  his  eyes ! " 

"  Oh,  don't  3  so  —  vhat  you  say  ?  —  fidgety. 
"Vhy  should  heiot  look  at  Toni  ?  I  tell  you,  my 
dew  I  think  hes  in  love  with  me !  "  She  laughed 
gaily,  and  bega  to  talk  animatedly  to  Eichard 
aboutiothing  a  all,  her  instinct  to  be  attractive 
in  theryes  of  ay  one  whom  she  thought  impor 
tant  emgh  reaserting  itself.  He  could  see  that 
it  wasll  done  fc  the  benefit  of  the  stranger,  who 
contird  to  stai>;  and  jealousy  took  possession 
of  hii—  jealousy  none  the  less  bitter  because  the 
occasi  of  it  was  so  absurd.  He  felt  it  to  be 


306  THE  SANDS   OF 

trivial,  but  he  felt  it  also  to  be  outra^118?  and  it 
drove  him,  in  spite  of  himself,  inta  mood  of 
sarcasm  which  he  knew  Toni  resen*  more  than 
anything. 

"  Oh,  well,"  he  said,  "  look  at  hiiJJ  all  means, 
if  you  find  him  attractive ;  I  do?  admire  your 
taste,  that's  all." 

"  Silly !  "  she  said,  "  I  tell  you,/  dear,  he  may 
not  be  handsome,  but  he  is  smar^ic ',  I  bet  you 
he  is  rich  also;  I  never  make1' stakes;  some 
thing  tells  me,  and  I  always  kncwheli  a  man  is 
rich." 

Richard  laughed  bitterly.  E  hope  for  the 
success  of  the  evening  had  quiterme.  He  knew 
that  while  Toni  remained  in  tte  surroundings 
she  would  be  more  interested  in  tm  than  in  bin, 
and  he  wanted  to  get  done  wi  the  necessarr 
round,  so  that  he  could  have  heio  himself.  Sh 
seldom  failed  to  be  charming /hen  they  wea 
quite  alone;  but  he  was  beginng  to  learn  tht 
variety,  miscellaneous  triviality  any  chance  in 
terests  or  objects,  came  between  m  and  her  alen- 
tion.  It  was  all  part  of  her  IE,  of  course  part 
also,  as  he  realized,  of  her  char; ;  she  was  /ways 
so  perfectly  alive  to  the  preset  that  it  tid  all 
her  thoughts;  and  as  she  tookin  the  who  of  a 
scene  with  her  eyes,  and  neve  called  upisions 
of  things  absent,  so  all  her  thcight  and  atition 
were  absorbed  by  what  was  jrtmediatelyefore 
her,  and  no  part  of  them  vas  available  '  ab- 


THE  HOUSE    ON   THE  SANDS         307 

stract  ideas,  or  for  anything  not  absolutely  pres 
ent. 

They  did  not  stay  long  in  Paillard's  after  din 
ner.  Much  to  Eichard's  relief,  instead  of  the 
dreaded  Maxim's,  she  suggested  a  theatre,  and  he 
looked  forward  to  some  such  pleasure  as  they  had 
enjoyed  together  at  the  opera.  But  the  theatre 
resolved  itself  into  the  Folies  Bergeres;  and  when 
they  arrived  there  she  would  not  allow  him  to  take 
stalls,  but  walked  instead  into  the  foyer,  which 
was  filled  with  a  noisy  throng  of  disreputable 
women  and  dissipated  men.  The  performance 
was  not  even  thought  of;  there  was  no  interest 
here  but  a  very  sordid  and  dismal  traffic  in  vice. 
Eichard  turned  sick  at  the  sight,  and  the  presence 
of  Toni  added  to  his  misery.  She  was  quite  a 
different  sort  of  woman  from  any  of  the  others 
there;  she  was  so  startlingly  out  of  place  (as  he 
was  also)  that  they  attracted  the  notice  of  the 
whole  crowd;  the  women  staring  at  her  beautiful 
clothes,  the  men  nudging  each  other  as  she  passed, 
trying  to  catch  her  eye,  and  making  confidential 
remarks  to  one  another  about  Eichard.  Toni  was 
not  at  all  embarrassed;  she  even  seemed  to  like 
the  admiration  and  envy  of  these  disreputables; 
and  she  led  Eichard  up  to  the  bar,  where  she  de 
manded  orangeade.  A  vicious-looking  American 
youth  in  a  tweed  suit  and  a  pot-hat,  who  looked 
like  a  clerk,  recognized  her,  and,  ignoring  Eich 
ard's  presence,  greeted  her  effusively. 


308  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

"Wai,  I  never!  if  it  ain't  Toni?  Where  have 
you  been  all  this  time?  Say,  that's  a  first-grade 
rig-out  and  no  mistake.  Have  a  drink?" 

Without  any  hesitation  she  held  out  her  hand 
and  said,  "  Hello,  my  dear !  I  never  thought  I 
should  see  you  here.  Vhat  you  doing  in  Paris  ?  " 
She  accepted  his  offer  of  a  drink,  although  one 
had  already  been  ordered  for  her,  and  turning  to 
Eichard  with  "  Excuse  me  one  little  minute,  my 
dear,  I  vant  to  speak  to  this  boy,"  she  entered 
into  animated  conversation  with  him. 

Eichard  felt  that  a  crisis  had  arrived.  His 
position  was  utterly  false,  and  was  in  danger  of 
becoming  ridiculous.  All  his  fastidiousness  rose 
in  revolt  against  the  circumstances  in  which  he 
was  placed;  his  one  anxiety  was  to  get  out  of  the 
place,  and  to  avoid  a  row.  He  was  white  with 
anger,  and  struggling  to  conceal  it.  Toni  was 
chatting  merrily  away  to  the  seedy  youth.  It  was 
an  innocent  acquaintance  enough,  so  far  as  that 
went;  she  was  far  beyond  the  youth's  attainment 
as  a  mistress,  and  he  was  merely  one  of  the  innu 
merable  people  that  knew  her  as  a  comrade  of 
rowdy  hours.  It  was  strange  that  this  last  situ 
ation  should  have  been  brought  about  by  one  of 
her  conspicuous  merits;  yet  so  it  was.  For  ex 
clusive  as  she  was  in  her  choice  'of  lovers,  she 
knew  no  barriers  of  wealth  or  class  to  govern  her 
random  comradeship,  and  she  never  forgot  a  face. 
So  that  any  one  who  had  ever  come  across  her  in 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE  SANDS         309 

a  company  of  merrymakers  was  sure  thereafter 
of  recognition  from  her;  and  she  was  never 
ashamed  of  her  friends.  In  this  action  of  hers, 
in  the  cordial  recognition  of  the  seedy  pot-hat, 
were  thus  united  expressions  of  her  two  most  dis 
tinguishing  qualities;  the  touch  of  the  gamine  in 
her,  that  brought  her  into  contact  with  all  sorts 
of  disreputable  and  detrimental  people,  and  the 
true  human  grace  that  made  her  never  afraid  or 
ashamed  to  greet  them,  in  whatever  company  she 
might  be. 

Eichard  was  hardly  in  a  position,  however,  to 
appreciate  the  virtue  in  her  act;  and  the  fact 
that  the  youth  was  merely  a  comrade  did  not  alter 
the  impossibility  of  the  situation.  It  was  brought 
to  a  crisis  by  the  band  in  the  foyer  beginning  a 
waltz,  and  by  the  young  man,  who  was  something 
the  worse  for  drink,  but  had  evidently  desirable 
qualities  as  a  dancer,  asking  Toni  to  dance  with 
him.  She  nodded  her  head,  and  then  saying, 
"  Wait  a  minute/'  crossed  over  to  where  Richard 
was  standing  in  the  attitude  of  one  awaiting  ex 
planations. 

"  Look  here,  my  dear,  you  don't  mind,  do  you  ? 
Just  one  round  with  this  boy.  I  haven't  seen  him 
for  ever  so  long,  and  he  —  " 

The  contained  and  concentrated  expression  on 
Richard's  face  stopped  her  short.  He  was  white 
with  anger  and  revolt,  and  he  spoke  in  a  low,  in 
tense  voice. 


310  THE   SANDS    OF   PLEASURE 

"  Look  here ;  if  you  speak  to  that  fellow  again, 
or  to*  any  other  man  here,  I'll  walk  out  of  the 
place." 

The  light  flashed  into  her  eyes.  An  ultimatum 
to  the  spoiled  darling!  She  stood  facing  him, 
quivering  with  temper,  the  red  anger  in  her  eyes 
meeting  the  steely  regard  of  his.  All  the  pro 
found  antagonism  between  the  two  temperaments 
blazed  forth  in  that  look,  and  battle  was  given 
and  taken.  It  lasted  for  just  three  seconds.  At 
the  end  of  that  time  Toni  dropped  her  eyes,  gave 
a  nervous  little  laugh,  and  said: 

"  My  dear,  I  think  you  are  mad.  Vhat  harm  is 
there  if  I  do  speak  to  him  ?  '  Walk  out  of  the 
place ! '  "  —  she  tried  to  mimic  him,  but  broke 
down.  "  Oh,  come  along,"  she  said,  putting  her 
arm  through  his ;  "  I  don't  mind.  Let  us  go 
home." 

The  bugle  had  sounded  for  the  assault,  and 
Richard  had  carried  the  first  encounter.  But  there 
is  no  fruit  so  bitter  to  the  taste  as  the  fruit  of 
victory  over  some  one  we  love. 

It  was  not  until  they  were  nearly  at  their  hotel 
that  Richard  remembered  his  gift.  His  anger  had 
all  gone,  and  left  his  love  more  than  anxious  to 
heal  up  the  wound.  He  had  taken  her  hand  in 
the  carriage,  and  she  had  let  it  lie  there;  but 
she  had  hardly  spoken.  She  was  inwardly  raging 
r»,t  having  been  vanquished,  and  his  tone  of  com- 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE  SANDS         311 

mand  echoed  jarringly  in  her  ears.  Yet  she 
seemed  to  accept  his  caresses  and  to  assume,  as 
he  did,  that  the  quarrel  was  made  up.  He  was 
glad  when  he  remembered  his  gift,  and  thought 
it  would  come  as  a  pretty  atonement  for  his  anger 
with  her. 

He  followed  her  into  her  room.  She  sat  down 
on  a  sofa,  and  he  came  beside  her,  put  his  arm 
around  her  and  kissed  her.  She  did  not  turn  her 
head  away,  but  neither  did  she  respond  to  the 
caress.  She  was  passive,  inert,  as  though  her 
mind  was  elsewhere. 

"  Look,  little  one,"  he  cried ;  "  while  you  were 
asleep  to-day  I  was  busy.  I  was  a  long  time  look 
ing  for  it,  but  I  found  it  at  last."  He  took  the 
case  out  of  his  pocket,  and  Toni  turned  her  head 
and  became  alert,  like  a  dog  who  hears  the  word 
"biscuits."  He  put  his  arm  around  her  again 
and  drew  her  head  close  to  his  shoulder;  she 
acquiesced  in  these  movements,  but  kept  her  eyes 
on  the  box. 

"  Listen,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  know  that  I  shall 
ever  be  able  to  tell  you  or  show  you  how  much 
I  love  you,  or  how  happy  you  make  me.  I  love 
you  so  dearly  that  I  would  like  to  take  you  in 
my  arms  and  carry  you  right  away  from  all  this 
beastly  world.  Some  day  perhaps  I  will,  and  then 
we'll  be  happy  together,  as  we  were  at  Barbizon. 
But  until  then,  dear  flower,  we  shall  often  be 
separated,  with  nothing  of  each  other  to  hold  but 


312  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

the  memory  of  all  our  happy  hours.  And  I  want 
you  to  have  something  that  you  can  wear,  some 
thing  of  mine  that  will  remind  you  of  me;  so 
that,  wherever  you  are,  and  whatever  you  are 
doing,"  —  his  voice  trembled  a  little,  —  "  you  can 
just  put  up  your  hand  and  touch  this,  and  say, 
'  He  gave  it  to  me,  and  he  loves  me/ '' 

She  looked  up  at  him  for  a  moment  with  kind 
eyes,  and  then  began  to  undo  the  parcel.  Her 
quick  nervous  fingers  tore  at  the  string  and  the 
wrappings  impatiently;  she  threw  everything  on 
one  side,  flung  the  wooden  box  away,  and  opened 
the  case.  The  necklace  fell  out  and  lay  extended 
on  the  white  fabric  of  her  dress,  the  dull  old  silver, 
the  flashing  semicircle  of  the  paste,  and  the  dark 
rough  lumps  of  the  emeralds.  Its  beauty  was  so 
quaint  and  unlike  anything  she  had  expected  that 
she  caught  her  breath,  and  turned  to  Eichard  a 
face  flushed  with  pleasure. 

"  0  my  dear,  how  sweet ! "  she  said ;  kissed 
him  warmly,  and  then  returned  to  her  toy.  Eich 
ard  was  picking  up  the  scattered  wrappings  and 
the  box,  and  did  not  observe  her  for  a  moment; 
when  he  did  he  saw  that  she  was  examining  the 
necklace  closely. 

"  It  is  very  pale  for  gold,  isn't  it  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  told  her  that  it  was  silver,  and  explained 
why  they  had  used  silver  for  the  sake  of  the  set 
ting  and  the  white  color.  She  went  on  examin 
ing  it. 


THE   HOUSE   ON   THE  SANDS         313 

"  It  is  not  new,  is  it  ?  "  was  her  next  question ; 
and  when  he  had  told  her  that  it  was  an  Empire 
ornament,  she  said,  "  Of  course,  my  dear,  how 
stupid  of  me.  It  is  beautiful,  very  beautiful ! " 
She  held  it  up  to  the  light.  "  How  they  sparkle ! 
they  are  a  very  good  color,  too.  I  am  afraid  my 
naughty  boy  has  been  —  vhat  you  say  ?  —  extrav 
agant."  She  had  turned  it  over,  and  was  looking 
at  the  back. 

"  But  how  funny,"  she  went  on.  "  I  never  see 
this  setting  before.  It  is  to  make  it  safer,  vhat? 
How  beautiful  they  are !  But  it  is  funny  that  I 
never  see  diamonds  set  like  this.  They  are  gen 
erally  open,  and  —  " 

"  Why,  you  little  goose,  it's  not  diamonds ;  if  s 
paste,  old  paste,  strass  they  call  it." 

She  looked  up  suddenly.  "  Not  real  diamonds  ? 
I  see." 

He  went  on  to  explain  to  her  the  difference 
between  the  old  paste  and  the  modern  rubbish, 
repeating  a  vast  deal  of  information  which  he  had 
only  learned  that  afternoon  from  the  dealer  who 
had  sold  him  the  necklace.  Toni  still  sat  turning 
it  over  and  over  in  her  hands;  she  was  looking 
down  at  it,  and  he  could  not  see  her  face. 

Presently  she  looked  up  at  him,  her  eyes  blaz 
ing  with  passion,  and  immediately  looked  away 
again.  She  spoke  in  short,  nervous  sentences, 
keeping  her  eyes  downcast. 

"  I  tell  you  something,  Richard.    I  am  offended, 


314  THE   SANDS    OF   PLEASURE 

very  much  offended,  that  you  give  me  imitation 
diamonds.  I  do  not  understand;  I  ask  you  not 
ever  for  anything!  but  you  give  me  this!  How 
dare  you  ? "  she  blazed  out,  and  suddenly  flung 
the  necklace  away  from  her.  It  flashed,  a  drip 
ping  line  of  fire,  across  the  room,  and  fell  with 
a  rattle  in  the  far  corner.  She  rose  to  her  feet 
and  stood  confronting  him,  anger,  indignation, 
and  something  like  hatred  burning  in  her  eyes. 

Richard  was  turned  to  stone.  The  suddenness 
of  the  assault,  the  loathly  meanness  of  point  of 
view  which  could  attribute  to  him  the  desire  to 
palm  off  imitation  jewels  on  her,  the  utterly  hope 
less  and  cruel  misunderstanding  which  turned  his 
loving  gift  into  a  coin,  and  a  counterfeit  one  at 
that,  stunned  and  paralyzed  him.  He  seemed  to 
have  been  hurled  from  a  height  and  to  have  fallen 
like  a  stone  into  an  abyss  from  which  he  could 
never  rise.  In  a  second  he  realized  that  this  was 
the  end ;  that  the  thickness  of  a  world  lay  between 
them;  that  he  who  had  spent  that  happy  after 
noon  searching  for  a  gift  that  could  not  be  mis 
taken  for  payment,  and  paying  more  for  it  that 
it  should  not  wear  its  value  like  an  advertisement, 
and  she  who  had  thus  received  it,  were  strangers 
who  spoke  in  unknown  tongues. 

So  for  perhaps  a  minute  they  remained,  he 
standing  like  one  dazed,  looking  at  her  with 
bemused  eyes  that  saw  only  a  void  of  darkness, 
che  heaving  and  trembling  with  hateful  indigna- 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE  SANDS         315 

tion.  The  silence  was  broken  by  the  snap  of  his 
opera-hat  as  he  opened  it.  He  bowed  ceremoni 
ously  to  her,  as  though  he  were  still  in  a  dream. 

"  Good  night,"  he  said. 

"  Good-by,"  she  said. 


BOOK   III 
THE    HOUSE   ON    THE    ROCK 


waves  were  flowing  and  following  one 
JL  another  up  the  little  coarse  beach,  trying  to 
climb  its  steep  slope,  but  after  every  effort  falling 
back  a  little  more  as  the  ebb-tide  in  the  channel 
three  miles  out  drew  them  away  from  their  desire. 
Eichard  Grey  sat  on  a  rock  waiting  until  the  tide 
should  have  ebbed  far  enough  for  him  to  walk 
dry-shod  to  the  lighthouse;  and  in  the  meantime 
he  watched,  with  dull  absorption,  the  hypnotizing 
sequence  of  rise  and  fall.  In  this  calm  weather 
only  the  smallest  of  waves  lisped  against  the 
stones,  but  even  in  them  was  expressed  something 
of  the  vast  personality  of  the  ocean  to  whose 
shores  he  had  returned.  To-day  the  calm  seemed 
to  him  only  a  physical  repose  of  the  waters,  which 
veiled  a  restless  preoccupation  of  their  spirit,  as 
though  the  melancholy  omniscient  sea  had  con 
descended  to  curiosity,  and  was  interrogating  the 
shore.  Up  and  up  came  the  quiet  waves,  feeling 
among  the  stones,  turning  the  pebbles  over  and 
over  as  though  in  search  of  something,  falling 
back  a  little  to  a  clear  crystal  edge,  as  though  in 
319 


320  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

meditation;  and  then,  as  if  struck  by  some  new 
thought,  advancing  again  to  their  patient  scru 
tiny,  raking  among  the  round  pebbles  with  fingers 
of  snow,  and  sinking  back  again  with  a  long 
sigh  that  rippled  away  with  its  message  of  dis 
appointment.  The  wild  cliffs,  heather-browed 
and  capped  with  the  softly  rolling  green  of  the 
downs,  towered  behind  him  in  the  sunshine,  their 
precipices  wet  with  drippings  from  the  springs 
above.  Something  in  their  attitude,  bowed  down 
with  the  weight  of  ages,  yet  recoiling  from  the 
insidious  whisper  of  the  waves,  struck  him  with 
a  sense  of  the  misery  that  is  written  on  this  face 
of  Earth  which  she  turns  to  the  sea;  dark,  noble, 
time-worn  old  face,  patient  beneath  its  load  of 
springs  and  autumns,  staunch  against  unending 
assault,  yet  with  tears  trickling  down  it  for  pain 
of  a  knowledge  that  finds  no  utterance,  and  can 
give  back  no  answer  to  the  profound,  eternal  ques 
tionings  of  the  sea! 

As  Eichard  sat  there  a  kind  of  stupor  possessed 
his  mind.  He  had  returned  from  Paris  hoping 
to  find  in  work  and  amid  familiar  scenes  some 
narcotic  for  the  gnawing  misery  and  loneliness  of 
his  heart;  but  work  had  failed  him;  the  work 
men  were  all  gone ;  and  the  lonely  companionship 
of  land  and  sea  only  intensified  his  condition  of 
malady.  He  could  not  clearly  think  out  his  situ 
ation  and  reason  himself,  as  he  had  hoped  to  do, 
into  acceptance  of  it;  his  heart  was  still  a  rebel, 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE  ROCK  321 

and  fought  and  fretted  against  its  starvation.  He 
was  fighting,  as  all  have  to  fight,  the  eternal  battle 
between  the  mind  of  man  and  the  facts  and  des 
tinies  of  life.  He  told  himself  that  he  was  suf 
fering  from  an  untimely  green  sickness,  that  he 
was  in  love,  and  that  his  indisposition  was  even, 
in  the  eyes  of  experience,  a  laughable  one;  but 
he  told  himself  so  in  vain.  What  happens  harm 
lessly  to  the  youth  of  twenty,  springing  up  and 
withering  quickly  in  the  thin  soil  of  his  charac 
ter,  happens  fatefully  to  the  man  of  thirty.  His 
love  for  Toni  was  no  light  growth,  but  had  rooted 
itself,  for  good  or  ill,  deep  in  his  nature;  and 
since  it  had  been  an  independent  enterprise  of  the 
heart,  and  had  never  been  really  reconciled  with 
his  mind,  it  was  in  vain  that  he  now  summoned 
his  mind  to  extricate  him  from  the  unhappiness 
it  had  brought  him.  He  was  adrift,  rudderless 
for  the  moment,  on  the  dark  waters  of  misery, 
and  knew  not  where  to  turn  for  help  or  cure. 
Often  he  was  not  conscious  of  thought,  but  sat, 
as  he  sat  now,  staring  out  over  the  moving  sea, 
letting  its  salt  breath  drift  in  upon  him,  and  its 
plangent  voice  speak  to  him  in  vague  and  mighty 
messages.  All  the  summer  was  sad  about  him; 
the  corn  in  upland  fields  stood  tall  and  golden, 
waiting  in  the  hot  sunshine  for  the  day  of  the 
sickle  and  of  harvest.  All  that  passionate  promise 
of  the  spring  and  early  summer  which  he  had 
felt  when  he  was  busy  with  his  work  was  over 


322  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

now;  the  gorse  had  gone;  the  May  had  followed 
it;  the  red  army  of  the  foxgloves  had  marched 
forth,  occupied  the  hedgerows,  and  vanished  in 
their  day;  the  honeysuckle  and  the  wild  rose  had 
come  and  gone;  there  remained  only  the  sheets 
of  gold  in  the  fields,  the  blush  of  heather  on  the 
downs,  to  bring  the  great  cycle  of  accomplish 
ment  to  its  end.  So  still  and  silent  it  was  that 
the  very  summer,  like  the  inquisitive  sea,  seemed 
to  be  waiting  and  watching  him ;  his  own  accom 
plished  work  stood  fair  and  deserted  on  the  outer 
rocks;  the  world  seemed  empty  of  labor  or  prom 
ise. 

When  the  tide  had  ebbed  sufficiently,  Eichard 
rowed  himself  across  the  little  gap  of  deep  water 
between  Poltesco  Head  and  the  Snail  Kocks,  and 
walked  over  the  causeway  that  led  along  the  reef 
to  its  seaward  extremity  where  the  tower  stood. 
As  he  climbed  the  iron  ladder  and  opened  the 
door  at  the  base  of  the  tower,  he  was  struck  with 
a  sense  of  the  desolation  and  emptiness  of  fin 
ished  buildings  before  they  have  been  occupied 
and  used.  The  clean  stone,  the  smell  of  new  wood 
and  paint,  the  echo  of  his  steps  on  the  stone  stair 
way,  the  humming  of  the  air  through  the  ven 
tilating  shaft,  all  reminded  him  that  his  work 
was  done,  or  practically  done,  and  only  waited 
to  be  invaded  and  occupied  by  those  who  were 
to  keep  watch  there.  His  father,  who  in  public 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE  ROCK  323 

works  was  not  innocent  of  a  taste  for  the  solemn 
flourishes  of  the  Albert  period,  would  have  thought 
his  designs  incomplete  if  they  had  lacked  the  dig 
nity  of  inscriptions;  and  now,  in  letters  cut  into 
the  stones  of  the  tower  itself,  his  pious  intention 
stood  fulfilled.  Around  the  circumference  of  the 
inside  walls  in  the  bottom  story  were  carved  the 
words : 

NISI   DOMINU8    .EDIFICAVERIT    DOM0M    IN    VANUM 
LABORAVERUNT    QUI    ^EDIFICANT    EAM 

and  high  up  in  the  light-room,  where  the  keeper 
^a  duty  would  sit,  the  corresponding  verse: 

NISI   DOMINUS   CUSTODIERIT    CIVITATEM    FRUSTRA 
VIGILAT    QUI    CUSTODIT    EAM 

As  the  letters  caught  his  eye,  he  thought  grimly 
of  their  obvious  application  to  his  edifice  of  hap 
piness,  which  had  been  so  suddenly  destroyed; 
and  thought  also  bitterly  and  resentfully  of  the 
conventional  Dominus  who  had  neglected  to  be  its 
architect.  How  gladly  at  that  moment  would  he 
have  had  the  whole  tower  swept  away,  if  he  could 
but  have  secured  and  completed  that  Babel-tower 
of  his  joy,  which  stood  desolate  because  the  two 
builders  could  not  understand  each  other!  A 
kind  of  hatred  of  the  work  of  his  hands,  a  jealousy 
of  its  stability,  took  hold  of  him.  Was  it  only 
with  his  hands  that  he  could  build?  He  had 


324  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

loved  the  lighthouse  in  the  building;  but  how 
much  more  had  he  not  loved  her  into  the  fabric 
of  whose  life  he  had  built  his  heart !  Yet  she  was 
lost  to  him,  and  his  love  come  to  shipwreck,  while 
this  thing  of  stone  and  mortar  stood  there  in  the 
sunshine,  unshaken  by  wave  or  weather.  .  .  .  He 
went  up  through  the  two  lower  stories,  in  which 
were  to  be  kept  the  stores  necessary  for  the  lamp 
and  its  keepers.  Above  it  was  the  kitchen,  a 
bright  homely  room  with  its  cosy  cooking-range 
and  dresser,  its  new  chairs  and  presses  and  cup 
boards;  above  that  again  were  two  sleeping- 
rooms,  and  higher  still,  a  hundred  and  thirty 
feet  above  the  waves,  the  light-room  with  its 
trellised  walls  of  glass  and  gun-metal,  and,  in  the 
centre,  shrouded  in  dust-sheets,  the  lamp  with 
its  mirrors  and  lenses  and  condensers.  The  fitters 
had  left  it  only  the  day  before,  and  a  few  days 
later  would  return  to  put  the  finishing  touches 
to  its  adjustment  and  set  the  clockwork  machin 
ery,  by  means  of  which  it  was  made  to  revolve  and 
show  its  punctual  flashes  all  around  the  horizon. 
Eichard  sat  down  and  looked  about  him.  Here 
it  was,  all  finished;  and  he  did  not  care!  He 
remembered  how  he  had  longed  for  and  dreamed 
of  its  completion,  how  he  had  watched  over  every 
inch  of  its  growth,  how  his  life  and  thought,  and 
his  father's  life  and  thought  before  him,  had  been 
built  into  it.  Yet  it  interested  him  no  longer, 
his  pride  in  it  was  gone;  and  gone  also  was  that 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE  ROCK  325 

sense,  on  which  he  had  counted  so  certainly,  of 
security  and  satisfaction  in  labor  accomplished. 
What  he  had  done  seemed  to  him  after  all  a  thing 
outside  him,  no  possession  of  his;  what  he  had 
been,  what  he  had  felt  —  that  seemed  in  these 
despairing  moments  the  only  reality.  A  thousand 
times  he  cursed  himself  for  his  haste  in  leaving 
Toni;  a  thousand  times  he  almost  decided  to  go 
back,  and  at  any  cost  and  by  any  means  make  his 
peace  with  her,  yet  was  always  held  back  by  some 
inherent  strength  in  his  character,  some  wakeful 
intellectual  monitor  who  warned  him  that  it 
would  be  hopeless.  So  he  sat,  an  alien  within 
the  walls  of  his  own  building,  homesick  on  his 
own  ground,  all  his  soul  longing  for  the  woman 
he  had  loved,  and  the  scenes  amid  which  he  had 
loved  and  possessed  her. 

That  was  one  day,  typical  of  many  on  which  he 
would  try  to  occupy  himself  with  the  lighthouse, 
and  to  force  himself  into  an  interest  in  his  work. 
But  there  were  other  days  in  which  the  nostalgia 
for  what  he  had  left  behind  him  in  Paris  made 
the  very  sight  of  the  lighthouse  and  the  works 
hateful  to  him;  when  he  would  turn  his  back  on 
them,  and,  much  to  the  delight  of  Eufus,  who 
did  not  at  all  approve  of  people  who  sat  on  one 
rock  for  hours  at  a  time,  take  long  walks  about 
the  bare  promontory,  over  downs  and  along  the 
cliffs,  and  try  to  find  in  fatigue  of  the  body  some 


326  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

antidote  to  the  torture  of  his  mind.  For  the  un- 
happiness  caused  by  the  loss  of  his  love  was  com 
plicated  by  hideous  doubts  and  jealousies.  What 
was  she  doing?  How  much  did  she  care  for  him? 
How  long  would  his  memory  be  her  only  com 
panion?  He  thought  of  writing  to  her,  but  the 
same  hateful  doubts  prevented  him.  Who  would 
read  his  letters  ?  How,  and  in  what  circumstances, 
would  she  receive  them  ?  He  dared  not  think ;  the 
doubt,  alas!  was  hardly  a  doubt  at  all;  and  to 
the  agony  of  longing  for  her,  and  the  torture  of 
believing  her  denied,  was  added  the  misery  of 
realizing  that  he  could  still  love  and  long  for  a 
creature  whose  life  might  not  bear  thinking  about. 
.  .  .  These  were  savage  moods,  agonies  of  the 
flesh  and  spirit  into  which  we  dare  not  enter; 
but  there  were  saner  moments  in  which  he  was 
able  to  think  more  calmly  and  tenderly  of  her 
and  more  justly  of  himself,  when  the  sentimental 
ist  that  has  his  day  in  every  tragedy  of  the  heart 
gave  place  a  little  to  the  robuster  man. 


II 


LADY  KILLAED  looked  out  of  the  window 
of  the  little  drawing-room  of  the  Hermitage, 
her  pretty  forehead  wrinkled  into  a  frown  of  dis 
content.  Eain  had  blown  up  from  the  southwest; 
and  she  and  Margaret  Lauder  had  been  driven 
from  their  work  in  the  garden  to  find  occupation 
indoors. 

"  I  wonder  why  Mr.  Grey  hasn't  been  to  see  us  ? 
If  he  had  any  imagination  he'd  come  on  a  day 
like  this  and  cheer  us  up.  I  know  he's  been  back 
some  time." 

"  He  intended  to  come  back  a  month  ago,  didn't 
he  ? "  said  Margaret,  looking  up  from  some  lace 
work.  "  I  wonder  what  kept  him  ?  " 

"  He  evidently  found  some  great  attraction  in 
Paris,"  said  Lady  Killard  a  little  maliciously. 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  the  younger 
woman  continued  to  work  at  her  fine  and  elab 
orate  fabric  of  lace,  and  Lady  Killard  turned  from 
the  window  and  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room 
rapt  in  thought,  her  eyes  straying  from  rafter  to 
cornice,  and  from  door  to  window.  She  was  en 
gaged  in  her  favorite  autumn  occupation  of  plan 
ning  alterations  to  the  cottage,  and  had  spent 
327 


328  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

most  of  the  morning  in  demonstrating  to  Mar 
garet  how  by  taking  away  a  staircase  she  could 
add  a  dining-room,  and  showing  that  the  wall 
only  needed  to  be  moved  a  few  inches  for  many 
feet  to  be  added  to  the  length  of  the  little  hall. 

"  I'm  sure  those  beams  could  be  cut  away  a 
little  there,"  she  said,  emerging  into  speech ;  "  if 
only  Mr.  Grey  were  here  I  could  ask  him;  he 
knows  all  about  those  things." 

"  John's  cynicisms  seem  to  sink  rather  deep 
into  Mr.  Grey,"  said  Margaret,  also  bringing  the 
end  of  her  train  of  thought  to  the  light. 

"  And  quite  right,  too ;  he's  not  an  old  man  or 
a  clergyman.  He'd  be  a  horribly  dull  old  man 
if  he  went  on  as  he's  begun." 

Margaret  looked  up  with  a  smile.  "  Then  when 
he  grew  older  you'd  have  to  drop  his  acquaintance, 
as  he  wouldn't  fit !  " 

Lady  Killard  nodded  her  head  sagaciously. 
"  I've  great  hopes  that  he  is  going  to  fit ;  but  he 
will  probably  be  unbearable  for  a  little  while. 
People  ought  to  get  the  measles  over  when  they 
are  younger." 

"  It  always  interests  me,"  said  Margaret,  "  why 
every  one  supposes  the  measles  are  necessary.  If 
you're  a  healthy  child  it  seems  to  me  you  shouldn't 
have  them  —  especially  as  they  are  epidemic,  and 
generally  caught  from  some  one  else  —  John,  I 
suppose,  in  this  case." 

"  Oh,  you're  always  down  on  poor  John ! " 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE   ROCK  329 

"Well,  on  your  own  showing,  Jane,  he  seems 
to  have  deserted  Mr.  Grey  at  a  critical  moment. 
Perhaps  he  found  him  too  apt  a  pupil." 

"  My  dear  Margaret !  what  do  you  know  of  such 
things?" 

Margaret's  clear  eyes  looked  up  from  her  work. 
"Well,  then,  I  don't  know,  I  suppose;  and  I  cer 
tainly  don't  want  to.  But  there  seems  to  be  a 
convention  about  Paris." 

Lady  Killard  laughed  merrily.  "  Why,  my  dear 
Margaret,  you  remind  me  of  those  dear  old  ladies 
who  still  think  Paris  is  another  name  for  wicked 
ness,  and  who,  if  one  says  one  is  going  over  to 
buy  some  clothes,  shake  their  fingers  and  say, 
*  Oh,  naughty  thing ! '  They  used  to  shiver  in 
their  last  year's  muslin  frocks  crossing  the  Chan 
nel,  I  believe,  the  idea  being  that  everything  got 
ruined." 

"  The  Albert  Period  again !  " 

"  Oh,  bother  the  Albert  Period,"  said  Lady  Kil 
lard,  ringing  for  tea.  She  went  to  the  open  door 
and  looked  out  over  the  doubtful  landscape. 
"  Why,  it's  clearing  up ;  there's  the  sun.  And, 
what  do  you  think,  Margaret  ?  Talk  of  the  devil ! 
There's  Mr.  Grey  coming  up  through  the  lower 
gate.  This  is  most  exciting !  " 

The  arrival  of  any  friend  was  welcome  on  such 
a  day,  but  Eichard's  coming  was  an  event  of  gen 
uine  interest  to  both  women.  They  had  felt  a 
little  disappointed  that  he  should  have  seemed 


330  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

to  avoid  them  after  his  return,  but  it  was  for 
gotten  in  the  pleasure  with  which  the  three  friends 
met. 

"  The  return  of  the  Prodigal,  Mr.  Grey !  "  said 
Lady  Killard.  "  We've  become  quite  wasted,  sit 
ting  at  the  window  watching  for  you  for  weeks 
past.  Now  you  must  be  cross-examined  and  give 
an  account  of  yourself." 

Eichard  laughed  and  made  his  excuses,  and  for 
some  time  their  talk  was  of  commonplaces.  The 
two  women,  each  in  her  own  way,  were  charming 
in  their  welcome;  and,  as  so  often  happens  when 
friends  are  congenial,  the  three  met  as  old  and 
intimate  friends  after  this  absence  following  their 
first  brief  acquaintance.  Eichard  was  unaffectedly 
glad  to  see  them  again,  but  he  was  a  little  embar 
rassed  in  his  manner,  and  he  felt  that  unless  he 
could  talk  to  them  about  Toni  their  intercourse 
could  not  be  quite  satisfying  to  him.  Yet  the 
moment  he  came  into  their  presence,  he  realized 
that  between  the  woman  that  he  loved,  and  the  two 
women  that  he  liked,  there  was  a  gulf  wide  and 
unfathomable  which  no  effort  or  desire  of  his 
could  ever  span.  The  thought  made  him  jealous 
and  a  little  resentful  on  behalf  of  the  absent  Toni. 
If  only  these  people  knew  what  she  was  really  like ! 
They  couldn't  help  liking  her,  and  forgiving  her 
her  trespasses,  he  thought. 

"  Please  be  useful,  Mr.  Grey,  and  tell  me  what 
people  are  wearing  in  Paris."  It  was  Lady  Kil- 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE  ROCK  331 

lard  who  spoke,  hardly  breaking  in  on  Kichard's 
abstracted  thought. 

"Low-necked  gray  dresses  and  big  hats  with 
roses,"  he  murmured,  almost  to  himself,  and 
looking  out  of  the  window. 

Margaret  Lauder  looked  up  from  her  work. 
"What,  all  of  them?" 

"  Well,  I  saw  them  everywhere  I  went,"  said 
Eichard  with  a  note  of  amiable  defiance  in  his 
voice. 

"  Where  did  you  go  in  Paris,  Mr.  Grey  ?  "  asked 
Lady  Killard.  "  John  tells  us  nothing,  you 
know." 

"  I  really  don't  remember,"  said  Eichard.  "  All 
I  know  is  that  we  were  going  all  the  time.  I 
think  we've  been  everywhere." 

"  There's  no  doubt  that  John  is  a  wonderful 
cicerone,"  said  Margaret. 

Eichard  laughed.  "  Oh,  John !  he's  a  broken 
reed.  He  forsook  me  early  —  " 

"  I  suppose  as  soon  as  he  thought  you  were 
fledged?"  said  Lady  Killard.  But  she  felt  that 
the  conversation  was  becoming  a  little  awkward, 
and  led  it  back  to  dresses,  as  safer  ground. 

"  Low  necks  and  hats  are  rather  a  novelty, 
aren't  they  ?  "  she  asked,  innocently. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Eichard ;  "  the  fashion  came 
in  two  years  ago  on  Thursday  evenings  at  the 
Rallye  Club." 

Margaret  Lauder  laid  down  her  lace  in  her  lap 


332  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

and  broke  into  unrestrained  laughter,  her  eyes 
dancing  with  amusement.  "  But  this  is  really 
very  serious,  Mr.  Grey !  " 

Lady  Killard  and  Kichard  were  rather  taken 
aback  with  her  laughter.  "  One  wouldn't  think 
it  was  serious,  Margaret,  to  hear  you  laugh- 
ing!" 

"  I'm  so  sorry,  Jane,  but  I  couldn't  help  it.  It 
is  quite  too  amusing ! " 

"What  are  you  laughing  at?"  asked  Eichard. 

"At  you,"  replied  Margaret,  looking  at  him 
with  the  laughter  still  in  her  eyes. 

Eichard  began  to  laugh  too.  He  thought  it  a 
more  wholesome  attitude  than  Lady  Killard's 
somewhat  strained  shirking  of  the  subject. 

On  second  thoughts,  however,  he  began  to 
wonder  whether  he  might  not  in  some  way  have 
betrayed  himself;  whether  the  instinct  of  the 
virtuous  woman  for  evidences  of  social  anarchy 
had  not  revealed  something  or  other  of  his  con 
dition  to  these  two  clever,  clear-headed  women 
of  the  world.  He  thought  that  otherwise  they 
would  surely  have  quizzed  him  a  little  more 
openly;  there  was  on  Lady  Killard's  part  a  very 
distinct  caution  that  was  suspicious.  It  was  his 
own  fault,  of  course,  for  carrying  Toni  so  clearly 
in  his  mind  even  while  he  was  talking  to  them; 
he  was  like  a  moth  that  tries  to  avoid  the  candle- 
flame,  but  keeps  blundering  into  it;  and  he 
became  self-conscious. 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE  ROCK  333 

It  was  Margaret  who  came  to  the  rescue  this 
time  with  a  change  of  subject. 

"  Don't  you  think  I'm  clever  ? "  she  asked. 
"  I've  done  all  that  since  this  morning."  And 
she  showed  him  the  creamy  fabric  of  lace,  growing 
by  single  stitches  into  its  intricate  and  involved 
patterns.  How  pretty  she  was,  with  her  dark 
wavy  hair,  her  warm  coloring,  her  calm  brow 
and  clear-cut  face,  her  wise,  kind  eyes!  As  he 
looked  at  her  he  felt  again  what  he  had  felt  walk 
ing  to  church  that  evening  —  such  ages  ago ! 
how  much  he  liked  her,  and  how  much  more  he 
could  like  her  if  —  he  stopped  short  —  if  he  did 
not  love  some  one  else.  He  had  felt,  vaguely 
enough,  that  there  was  a  barrier  of  some  kind 
between  him  and  Margaret  Lauder;  and  he  knew 
that  if  Toni  had  not  come  into  his  life  that  bar 
rier  might  not  have  existed  now.  But  what  a 
different  thing  this  mild,  orderly,  respectable 
love  would  have  been !  As  soon  as  he  realized  that 
Toni  was  a  barrier  between  them  his  resentment 
and  jealousy  returned;  he  seemed  to  be  talking 
with  strangers.  Of  course  the  two  women  noticed 
his  embarrassment,  and  although  they  had  no 
very  clear  idea  of  its  origin,  instinct  told  them 
to  respect  it;  and  in  their  anxiety  to  avoid  add 
ing  to  it  the  conversation  became  artificial  again. 
They  spoke  of  the  cottage,  of  Lady  Killard's 
building  plans,  of  the  garden,  of  the  lighthouse 
and  the  coming  inauguration  of  the  light;  but 


334  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

they  did  not  talk  of  Paris  any  more.  Bichard  was 
therefore  rather  dull;  his  lassitude  and  weariness 
of  spirit,  which  had  been  dispelled  a  little  by  the 
meeting  with  these  two  friends  again,  returned 
upon  him.  He  became  irritated,  too,  by  Lady 
Killard's  careful  handling  of  their  trivial  conver 
sation;  she  kept  it  strictly  within  the  circle  of 
their  joint  interests,  and  diverted  it  from  Eichard 
himself.  She  knew  too  much,  he  thought;  but 
from  the  height  of  his  passionate  experience  he 
looked  down  almost  with  contempt  on  her  almost 
certain  misconception  of  the  case.  For  Margaret 
he  had  no  resentment;  she  knew  less,  he  felt,  and 
understood  more.  He  could  imagine  Lady  Kil- 
lard  being  slightly  jealous,  with  that  impersonal 
jealousy  felt  by  a  class  against  those  who  prey 
upon  its  property;  but  jealousy  or  resentment 
seemed  alike  impossible  for  Margaret  Lauder. 
There  was  no  curiosity  either  in  her  attitude, 
which  was  simply  one  of  remoteness,  a  distant 
friendliness.  Yet  in  some  odd  way  he  had  been 
able  to  realize,  in  the  course  of  this  short  visit, 
that  there  could  be  no  advance  in  his  friendship 
with  her  while  Toni  was  involved  in  his  life. 

The  weather  had  quite  cleared  before  Eichard 
went  away,  leaving  an  evening  of  slanting  sun 
shine  and  sweet,  warm  air.  He  felt  disinclined 
to  go  home  to  his  empty  house,  and  struck  inland 
instead  for  a  walk.  The  paths  he  followed  brought 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE   ROCK  335 

him  to  Erissey  Major,,  a  place  consisting  of  a  little 
ancient  church  and  a  farmhouse  set  in  a  clump 
of  noble  old  trees,  and  isolated  together  on  the 
downs.  He  walked  fast,  his  thoughts  revolving 
in  their  now  habitual  circle,  from  memories  of 
pleasure  to  memories  of  pain;  and  he  was  glad 
to  go  in  and  rest  for  a  little  in  the  shade  of  the 
churchyard. 

The  noise  of  Paris  had  been  in  his  ears  while 
he  walked;  the  silence  fell  suddenly  about  him 
as  he  awoke  to  the  present;  and  he  thought,  as 
he  sat  down  and  leaned  against  a  gravestone,  that 
he  had  never  been  in  so  quiet  a  place.  There  was 
a  soft  piping  from  the  birds  in  the  tall  elms  that 
crowded  so  thickly  about  the  church,  and  a  faint 
sound  of  bees  hung  upon  the  air,  but  no  other 
noise  found  its  way  into  the  precinct.  Eichard 
was  no  frequenter  of  graveyards,  and  the  com 
monplace  thoughts  suggested  by  the  presence  of 
so  many  faded  memorials  of  people  long  dead  and 
forgotten  were  new  to  him.  The  solemn  gray 
tower,  the  tumbled  heaps  of  the  graves,  the  tangle 
and  riot  of  all  the  green  life,  the  great,  bending 
bushes  of  fuchsia  and  veronica,  the  shrubs  that 
through  generations  of  neglect  had  grown  into 
trees,  all  added  to  the  sense  of  human  death  and 
oblivion  that  the  place  inspired;  and  yet  to  Eich 
ard,  tortured  and  wearied  though  he  was,  the 
common  sentimental  illusion  made  no  appeal.  He 
realized,  as  he  sat  there  with  his  dog  blinking  at 


336  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

his  feet,  that  the  peace  of  the  graveyard  was  for 
the  living;  that  to  taste  it  one  must  have  the 
blood  of  life  in  one's  veins,  the  burdens  and  pains 
of  life  at  one's  heart;  and  that  the  oblivious 
company  beneath  the  grass  had  no  part  or  benefit 
in  it.  Thus  he  escaped  self-pity,  that  dangerous 
miasma  of  the  graveyard;  and  he  found  in  it 
the  soothing  and  mellowing  influence  that  it  has 
held  for  the  healthy  mind  of  every  age.  They 
who  bring  their  sorrows  to  the  garden  of  the  dead 
bring  them  to  a  good  place  where  they  can  hurt 
no  one,  and  where  the  pretence  that  they  are  end 
less  or  unbearable  fades  before  so  many  reminders 
of  mortality. 

His  glance,  wandering  around  the  huddled  slabs 
and  monuments,  fell  on  a  verse  cut  into  a  granite 
headpiece:  They  shall  be  mine,  saith  the  Lord  of 
Hosts,  in  that  day  when  I  make  up  my  jewels. 
As  he  read  them  he  found  himself  unconsciously 
smiling  with  pleasure  at  the  words  —  beautiful 
jargon  of  the  great  unfading  dream  of  humanity. 
They  seemed  so  gay  and  kind  and  reasonable, 
like  a  thing  said  to  comfort  a  child  and  help  him 
to  be  good  through  a  difficult  day.  The  protecting 
care  of  the  promise  was  tempting,  making  him 
long  to  be  one  of  that  gay  company  who  were  to 
be  gathered  together  in  a  diadem.  He  thought  of 
the  people  he  knew,  and  wondered  what  sort  of 
jewels  they  would  make;  he  thought  of  Margaret 
—  and  then  he  thought  of  Toni,  outside  all 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE   ROCK  337 

dreams  and  promises  —  "  My  poor  little  girl,  they 
wouldn't  have  her !  "  —  the  old  poisonous  wound 
of  sentiment  broke  out  afresh. 

Eichard  got  up  and  walked  out  of  the  grave 
yard,  threshing  at  the  nettles  with  his  stick. 
"  Oh/'  he  said  to  himself,  "  these  are  all  dead 
things,  fables;  the  people  who  said  them  are  dead, 
the  people  they  are  said  about  are  dead;  but  she's 
alive  and  I'm  alive !  What  does  all  the  rest  mat 
ter  ?  "  Yet  the  next  moment  he  remembered  that 
she  was  dead  to  him,  dead  of  her  own  act  and 
his ;  and  that  if  he  cherished  her  still  in  his  heart 
he  cherished  a  dead  thing,  more  dead  than  if  she 
lay  there  sleeping  beneath  the  grass.  His  mind 
groped  and  groped  amid  the  cravings  and  contra 
dictions  that  possessed  it.  What  was  the  unend 
ing  ache  in  his  heart?  he  asked  himself;  and 
sickened  at  the  word  love,  with  its  thousand 
meanings  and  abuses,  that  was  all  the  answer  he 
could  find.  Like  so  many  others,  he  thought  of 
it  as  a  thing  outside  life,  or  at  most  incidental 
to  it;  not  as  the  life  in  little  which  they  who  live 
through  its  fires  learn  it  to  be.  By  its  touch  we 
are  tried,  and  learn  whether  we  are  to  march  with 
the  stalwarts  or  tarry  with  the  weaklings;  it  will 
lead  us  to  the  stars,  or  scorch  us  in  hell's  flames; 
and  through  it  we  must  pass  to  the  possession  of 
ourselves,  as  through  the  gate  of  death  to  what 
ever  may  lie  beyond  our  horizon.  The  love  of 
brave  mature  hearts  is  no  summer's  play  of  sun 


338  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

and  shadow;  it  is  Nature's  impulse,  the  match 
she  sets  to  our  lives,  that  shall  send  them  either 
zigzagging  to  burst  and  scatter  their  purposes,  or 
soaring  to  rocket  heights  where  they  may  blossom 
into  flowers  of  fire.  Domestic  love,  man's  doubt 
ful  tame  creature,  may  serve  man's  purposes; 
passionate  love  serves  Nature's,  and  makes  us 
priests  and  ministers  to  God.  And  not,  0  Eich- 
ard,  by  broodings  and  indulgences  any  more  than 
by  the  whips  and  hot  irons  of  civil  law  is  that  true 
passionate  love  tamed;  but  in  the  heart  only,  in 
the  fires  of  its  own  ordeal,  when  passion  has 
learned  to  put  service  before  craving. 


Ill 


OlsT  a  morning  toward  the  end  of  September 
Eichard   received   a    package    addressed   in 
John  Lander's  handwriting,  and  a  letter  dated 
from  the  house  of  a  relative  in  Scotland  where 
he  was  staying.    The  letter  was  as  follows: 

"  DEAB  RICHARD  :  —  How  are  you  ?  I  meant  to 
send  this  before,  but  have  been  running  about  so 
much  that  I  haven't  had  time  to  finish  it.  The 
likeness  might  be  better,  I  think,  but  the  general 
idea  is  there.  We  are  having  vile  weather  here, 
and  the  birds  are  as  wild  as  my  fellow  guests  are 
tame;  but  I  have  only  another  week  to  put  in, 
and  then  I'm  off  to  Italy.  Why  don't  you  come 
with  me  ?  I  hear  you  are  practically  finished  with 
Cornwall. 

"By  the  way,  I  was  in  Paris  ten  days  ago  — 
God!  what  a  desert  —  and  I  heard  that  your 
friend,  the  original  of  my  daub,  is  still  there. 
She  never  went  away  at  all,  it  seems,  and  has  been 
there  all  through  the  slack  season  —  which  is  odd, 
to  say  the  least  of  it.  I  didn't  see  her,  or  any  of 
our  friends,  but  from  what  I  hear,  she  seems  to 
339 


340  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

have  been  ill;  in  other  words,  I  expect  that  the 
little  bottle  you  told  me  of  has  been  refilled.  But 
she  seems  to  have  contrived  to  keep  Maxim's  alive 
through  the  dull  weeks.  Yours  ever, 

"JOHN  LAUDER." 

Richard  read  and  re-read  the  letter,  and  sat 
looking  at  the  written  sheets  for  a  long  time. 
Then  he  opened  the  parcel,  and  found  that  it  con 
tained  a  painting  of  Toni  done  from  the  Barbizon 
sketch.  Like  all  Lauder's  finished  work,  it  did 
not  quite  fulfil  the  promise  of  the  hasty  sketch; 
it  lacked  the  certainty  of  touch,  the  freedom  and 
sureness  of  handling  which  had  given  distinction 
to  the  pencil  drawing;  but  still  it  was  unmis 
takably  Toni,  and  spoke  eloquently  to  Richard's 
hungry  senses.  As  he  looked  at  it,  all  the  longing 
that  he  had  been  trying  to  stifle  through  these 
dreary  weeks  broke  from  its  feeble  restraints  and 
demanded  to  be  satisfied.  The  news  in  the  letter 
also  filled  him  with  a  new  tumult  of  doubts.  Had 
she  cared  more  than  he  thought?  Had  he  driven 
her  back  into  the  nervous  disorganization  from 
which  he  had  rescued  her?  A  voice  within, 
prompted  by  his  longings,  told  him  that  he  had, 
and  that  it  was  his  clear  duty  to  go  and  seek  her 
out  again,  and  save  her  from  herself.  Yet  still  in 
the  upper  seats  of  the  intelligence,  where  sits  the 
incorruptible  jury  that  we  call  common  sense, 
he  found  no  answering  decision;  the  thing  had 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE   ROCK  341 

been  tried,  and  had  been  found  wanting;   it  had 
ended  disastrously,  and  would  so  end  again. 

One  thing,  however,  was  made  startlingly  clear 
to  him  by  the  effect  of  the  letter  and  picture:  he 
saw,  as  in  a  dream,  the  image  of  the  man  he  had 
been  in  these  recent  weeks  —  useless,  idle,  brood 
ing,  miserable,  unable  to  work,  unable  to  read  or 
be  interested  in  anything  or  anybody,  tormented 
by  memory,  indecision,  vain  regrets,  and  desires 
—  and  life,  the  life  he  so  proved,  with  which  he 
had  hoped  to  do  so  much,  slipping  by  him  unused. 
His  old  philosophy  of  doing  —  what  had  become 
of  it  ?  A  kind  of  panic  seized  him ;  a  terror  of  the 
passing  day  and  the  coming  night,  in  which  no 
work  could  be  done  or  joy  savored;  fragments 
of  philosophies,  things  read  and  half-forgotten, 
floated  on  the  commotion  of  his  mind.  His  eye 
fell  on  the  book-shelves ;  what  would  Carlyle  have 
said  of  him,  that  bitter,  wise  old  man  whose  teach 
ing  had  always  appealed  to  him,  and  with  whom, 
in  spite  of  his  bitterness  and  hysteria,  he  had  so 
often  found  himself  in  sympathy?  He  remem 
bered  some  verses  of  Goethe  translated  by  Carlyle, 
which  he  used  to  read  over  and  over  again;  he 
could  not  remember  them  clearly;  only  vague 
phrases  came  back  to  him,  admonishing,  advising. 
Hastily  he  took  down  the  book,  and  turned  the 
leaves  until  he  came  to  the  place;  and  with  the 
portrait  of  Toni  on  the  table  beside  the  book  he 
read  the  verses. 


342  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

"  The  Future  hides  in  it 
Gladness  and  sorrow ; 
We  press  still  thorow, 
Naught  that  abides  in  it 
Daunting  us  —  onward. 

"  And  solemn  before  us, 
Veiled,  the  dark  Portal ; 
Goal  of  all  mortal :  — 
Stars  silent  rest  o'er  us, 
Graves  under  us  silent ! 

"  While  earnest  thou  gazest 
Comes  boding  of  terror, 
Comes  phantasm  and  error ; 
Perplexes  the  bravest 
With  doubt  and  misgiving. 

"  But  heard  are  the  Voices, 
Heard  are  the  Sages, 
The  Worlds  and  the  Ages  : 

'  Choose  well ;  your  choice  is 
Brief,  and  yet  endless.'  " 


He  looked  from  one  to  the  other  —  from  the 
face  into  which  he  read  so  much  that  others 
could  never  see  in  it,  with  which  was  associated 
so  much  passionate  happiness  (for  he  had  already 
forgotten  what  was  not  happy),  to  the  solemn, 
earnest  admonition  of  the  poet;  and  he  felt  that 
he  had  come  to  cross-roads,  that  he  could  no 
longer  live  aa  he  had  been  living  through  these 
weeks,  that  a  choice  must  be  made  —  "brief,  and 
yet  endless."  He  must  either  cure  himself  of 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE  ROCK  343 

his  fever  of  unrest  and  craving,  and  take  up  his 
work  again  in  the  belief  that  there  was  no  common 
ground  on  which  he  and  Toni  could  meet;  or  he 
must  go  to  her  help.  His  image  of  her,  now  that 
he  was  no  longer  with  her,  was  no  more  true  to 
reality  than  it  had  been  when  they  were  together, 
or  else  he  could  hardly  have  entertained  the  sec 
ond  alternative  seriously;  his  heart,  determined 
idealist  that  it  was,  told  him  that  love  like  his 
could  remove  all  barriers  and  dissolve  all  diffi 
culties.  Well,  then,  he  must  choose;  but  how  to 
choose?  Suddenly  he  resolved  to  take  a  day  to 
think  over  it,  to  go  for  a  long  walk,  and  see  if  a 
day  of  exercise  and  changing  scenes  would  not 
help  him  to  a  decision.  He  realized  that,  as  he 
could  not  have  considered  his  choice  dispassion 
ately  if  Toni  had  been  there,  neither  could  he  do 
so  amid  the  scenes  of  his  work,  in  sight  of  the 
lighthouse  that  had  come  to  appear  in  his  eyes 
as  her  jealous  rival.  He  felt  that  he  must  be 
away  from  both,  on  some  neutral  ground  where 
he  could  be  insulated  from  the  magnetism  of 
both  forces.  He  picked  up  his  stick,  called  his 
dog,  locked  the  door  of  his  house,  and  set  forth 
across  the  downs. 

His  direction  lay  northward  and  westward  along 
tracks  leading  over  the  rolling  carpet  of  heather 
and  dwarf  gorse.  Heather  purple,  red,  and  white, 
and  gorse  that  was  beginning  to  be  golden  again 


344  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

—  they  mingled  together  in  a  fabric  of  tender 
hues  that  extended  to  the  horizon  on  every  side. 
The  day  was  threatening,  but  there  were  intervals 
of  bright  sunshine,  and  the  air  was  soft  and  fra 
grant.  The  dog  ran  busily  about,  nosing  into 
rabbit-holes,  or  looking  back  at  Eichard  for  ap 
proval,  pricking  intelligent  ears  and  slanting  a 
lively  tail;  and  but  for  the  rabbits,  a  few  piping 
birds,  and  now  and  then  a  sea-gull  that  flew  cry 
ing  overhead,  they  seemed  to  have  the  world  to 
themselves.  Eichard  found  thought  not  so  easy, 
after  all;  he  was  pleasantly  conscious  of  his  sur 
roundings,  and  found  his  attention  absorbed  by 
the  things  immediately  about  him,  by  the  color  of 
a  flower,  a  clump  of  late  blackberries  on  a  hedge, 
the  direction  of  a  path,  the  flight  of  a  rabbit.  As 
he  walked  on,  mile  after  mile  and  hour  after  hour, 
he  seemed  to  become  drugged  by  the  sweet  air, 
soothed  by  the  exercise,  and  hypnotized  by  the  act 
of  putting  down  one  foot  after  another,  until  he 
seemed  to  be  walking  out  of  the  present  into  some 
country  of  sleep.  There  was  nothing  in  his  sur 
roundings  to  suggest  modern  England.  Eather 
there  were  signs  of  almost  ever}r  age  but  the  pres 
ent:  British  barrows,  cromlechs,  Saxon  fortifica 
tions,  Eoman  encampments,  Norman  and  mediae 
val  churches,  when  he  came  to  one  of  the  scattered 
hamlets  that  lay  on  his  course.  Such  industry 
as  there  were  signs  of  was  but  the  patient  tilling 
of  the  earth;  he  was  walking  backwards  into 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE   ROCK  345 

Time,  away  from  his  frets  and  difficulties.  And 
as  he  walked,  they  seemed  to  dwindle  in  the  dis 
tance,  to  be  not  so  cruel  and  insoluble  after  all; 
something,  he  felt  sure,  would  occur  to  him  as  a 
decision;  in  the  meantime  the  great  thing  was  to 
walk.  He  rested  at  an  inn  in  the  middle  of  the 
day  and  ate  a  meal  of  bread  and  cheese ;  and  then 
walked  on  again  in  a  direction  that  he  thought 
would  lead  him  back  to  the  coast.  But  in  this 
he  was  mistaken;  he  found  himself  once  more  on 
downs,  with  no  very  clear  knowledge  of  his  where 
abouts;  and  as  it  was  getting  on  toward  evening, 
and  the  sky  was  looking  threatening,  he  began  to 
be  anxious,  and  catching  sight  of  a  lonely  cottage 
on  the  downs,  went  there  to  ask  his  way.  To  his 
astonishment  he  found  that  he  was  twenty  miles 
from  home,  and  three  from  the  nearest  village 
where  he  could  hope  to  get  a  bed  for  the  night; 
so  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  strike  across 
in  the  direction  indicated. 

He  had  not  gone  more  than  a  mile,  however, 
before  the  storm  broke  in  earnest,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  he  was  drenched  to  the  skin.  It  was 
beginning  to  be  dark,  moreover;  and  he  awoke 
from  his  melancholy  reveries  to  realize  that  a  night 
spent  wandering  about  the  soaking  downs  would 
be  far  from  pleasant.  At  this  moment  he  saw 
through  the  gloom  a  building  or  group  of  build 
ings  half  a  mile  to  his  left,  and  he  struck  across 
at  a  run  to  seek  shelter  from  the  rain  that  was 


346  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

now  driving  solidly  down.  As  he  drew  nearer 
he  saw  lights  shining  from  one  of  the  buildings; 
a  cross  on  the  gate  of  a  neighboring  field  suggested 
religion;  and  he  then  remembered  to  have  heard 
of  a  Trappist  monastery  somewhere  in  this  neigh 
borhood.  This  was  evidently  the  place,  and  if  so, 
would  probably  afford  him  shelter.  Eichard  knew 
very  little  about  monasteries,  and  had  never  been 
in  one;  and  he  was  conscious  of  a  somewhat  eery 
feeling  as  he  approached  the  great  cross-sur 
mounted  gates  and  heard  the  sound  of  singing 
coming  from  the  lighted  chapel.  But  the  rain 
hastened  his  steps,  and  he  was  presently  ringing 
the  bell  of  the  only  door  which  was  open  to  public 
approach. 

He  was  received  by  a  monk  in  brown,  a  lay 
brother,  who  led  him  along  a  passage  into  a  bare 
waiting-room.  The  convent  were  singing  the 
office  of  Vespers,  it  appeared,  and  the  guest- 
master  was  in  the  chapel;  he  would  come  out 
presently  and  attend  to  the  visitor.  The  lay 
brother  disappeared,  and  left  Eichard  to  his  own 
meditations,  which  were  much  concerned  with  the 
strange  environment  in  which  he  found  himself. 
He  had  only  been  alone  a  few  minutes,  however, 
when  he  heard  a  clatter  of  feet  along  the  stone 
corridor  outside;  the  monks  had  evidently  come 
out  of  the  chapel.  A  few  moments  later  the  door 
was  opened  by  an  elderly,  gray-bearded  man,  who 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE   ROCK          347 

introduced  himself  as  Father  David,  the  guest- 
master. 

"  Dear  me,  sir,  you  are  wet,"  he  said ;  "  you 
must  come  and  get  dry."  And  he  led  Eichard 
without  more  ado  to  a  great  kitchen,  where  half 
a  dozen  lay  brothers  were  busy  with  pots  and 
pans  before  a  roaring  fire.  While  Eichard  was 
being  attended  to,  Eufus  was  led  off  to  an  out 
house  in  a  mood  somewhat  suspicious  of  the  re 
ligious  order;  but  everything  was  done  in  silence 
and  by  signs,  the  father  himself  using  as  few 
words  as  possible  to  Eichard  while  they  were  in 
the  kitchen. 

When  he  had  been  dried,  however,  and  his  wet 
coat  left  to  the  lay  brothers,  Father  David  led  him 
away  to  the  reception-room,  and  there  asked  him 
what  they  could  do  for  him. 

"  You  have  already  done  more  than  I  have  any 
right  to  accept,"  said  Eichard.  "  I  only  wanted 
a  few  minutes'  shelter,  and  directions  to  the  near 
est  village  where  I  can  get  a  bed ; "  and  he  ex 
plained  how  he  had  been  caught  in  the  storm. 

"You  won't  get  a  bed  anywhere  near  here," 
said  Father  David;  "you  had  much  better  stay 
with  us.  Hospitality  to  strangers  is  a  rule  with 
us  —  as  well  as  a  privilege,"  he  added,  kindly. 

"  But  —  I  am  not  a  Catholic,"  said  Eichard, 
awkwardly. 

"Well,  that's  the  more  pity,"  said  the  good- 
natured  monk;  "but  that  is  no  reason  why  we 


348  THE   SANDS    OF  PLEASURE 

should  allow  you  to  get  wet."  He  treated  him 
like  an  unpractical  child.  "  Why/'  he  said,  "  you 
look  not  at  all  well.  I  am  afraid  you  are  not 
very  happy  about  something?  Well,  don't  think 
me  inquisitive  or  impertinent,  but  if  we  can  do 
anything  for  you  —  if  you  would  like  to  talk  to 
a  priest,  I  will  speak  to  the  prior." 

Richard  found  himself  ready  to  babble  like  a 
child,  and  with  difficulty  restrained  himself,  ab 
surd  as  the  impulse  was,  from  pouring  out  his 
whole  story  into  the  ears  of  this  shrewd,  kindly 
old  man  in  the  white  flannel  robe. 

"  I  could  not  think  of  troubling  you,"  he  said ; 
"  I  must  keep  my  troubles  to  myself.  And  I  don't 
know  how  to  thank  you  for  your  offer  of  hospi 
tality." 

"  Why,  that  is  what  we  are  here  for,"  said  the 
monk  with  great  simplicity.  "  Now  we  will  come 
and  see  your  room.  There  is  an  hour  before  sup 
per,  and  I  can  show  you  over  part  of  the  monas 
tery,  if  you  like." 

Eichard  gladly  accepted,  and  together  they 
made  a  tour  of  the  buildings  not  actually  occupied 
by  the  monks.  As  they  passed  through  the  clois 
ters  they  met  a  dozen  or  so  of  the  fathers  taking 
their  evening  exercise  and  meditation,  walking 
briskly  to  and  fro  over  the  wooden  floor,  wrapped 
in  the  eternal  silence  of  their  order,  and  averting 
their  eyes  from  Richard  as  he  passed.  He  saw  the 
refectory,  the  sacristy,  the  chapter-house,  the  li- 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE  ROCK  349 

brary,  the  farm-buildings  where  some  lay  brothers 
were  busy  milking  the  cows;  and  as  they  went 
Father  David  explained  to  him  something  of  their 
austere  life  —  how  they  rose  at  two  in  the  morn 
ing  and  went  to  bed  after  compline  at  eight,  sleep 
ing  on  hard  boards  and  wooden  pillows  in  their 
day-clothes,  and  covered  only  by  a  single  blanket; 
how  —  with  the  exception  of  those  who  looked 
after  the  guests  and  did  business  with  neighbor 
ing  farmers  —  they  never  spoke,  and  practised  a 
thousand  austerities;  how  they  lived  and  worked 
hard  on  two  meals  a  day,  never  touching  meat  or 
wine  from  year's  end  to  year's  end.  Eichard 
looked  wonderingly.  "  And  do  you  never  want 
to  go  away  ?  "  He  asked  the  inevitable  question 
of  the  outsider. 

"  Dear  me,  no,"  said  Father  David,  smiling 
indulgently.  "  Why  should  we  want  to  go  away  ? 
That  would  be  a  strange  idea,  when  we  are  so 
happy  here  together !  We  have  so  many  things 
to  do,  the  day  seems  to  slip  by  far  too  fast.  And 
then  there  are  the  offices  —  but  you  will  hardly 
understand  that,"  he  added ;  "  only,  you  see,  we 
could  not  be  happy  if  we  were  not  serving  and 
praising  God." 

They  talked  a  good  deal,  the  monk  displaying 
a  lively  interest  in  the  outside  world  at  large  and 
in  Eichard' s  work  in  particular,  Eichard  on  his 
part  being  equally  inquisitive  as  to  the  life  of 
these  recluses,  with  its  austere  restrictions  and 


350  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

minute  organization.  To  him  it  all  seemed  part 
of  the  unreality  of  the  day,  and  of  the  excursion 
into  the  part  that  his  walk  had  taken;  after  his 
progress  through  British,  Saxon,  and  Norman 
England,  it  seemed  only  natural  to  finish  the  day 
in  a  monastery  of  the  middle  ages.  And  it  seemed 
hardly  less  real  when  he  was  seated  at  the  bare 
supper-table  with  the  half-dozen  other  guests  —  a 
couple  of  seminarists,  a  priest,  and  three  laymen 
in  retreat  —  eating  a  rough  but  plentiful  meal  of 
fish,  bread,  and  tea,  and  listening  to  the  monoto 
nous  voice  of  a  father  who  came  in  and  read 
aloud  a  dry  theological  treatise  while  they  were 
eating.  There  was  no  conversation  then  or  after 
ward;  as  soon  as  they  had  finished,  the  priest 
rapped  on  the  table,  the  father's  reading  abruptly 
ceased,  grace  was  said,  and  they  separated  to  va 
rious  religious  duties.  Eichard  remained  in  the 
reception-room  looking  at  the  religious  volumes 
there  until  the  beating  of  the  chapel  bell  sum 
moned  the  whole  convent  to  compline,  and  Father 
David  came  to  show  him  his  place  in  the  chapel. 
It  was  a  long,  narrow  building,  furnished  with 
images,  altars,  pictures,  and  an  organ.  There  was 
a  transept  for  the  guests ;  and  from  where  Eichard 
sat  he  could  see  the  two  long  rows  of  plain  stalls 
furnished  with  heavy  breviaries  and  missals.  Pres 
ently  the  monks  began  to  arrive ;  the  lay  brothers 
first,  who  congregated  together  in  another  tran 
sept;  and  afterward,  one  by  one,  and  by  com- 


THE  HOUSE  ON   THE  ROCK          351 

panies  of  twos  and  threes,  the  fathers  themselves. 
They  strode  awkwardly  with  bowed  heads,  their 
white  habits  swinging  behind  them,  their  rough 
shoes  echoing  on  the  wooden  floor  —  forty  or 
fifty  of  them,  men  middle-aged  and  old,  with  faces 
of  varying  intelligence  and  refinement,  but  all, 
oddly  enough,  bearing  the  marks  of  perfect  health. 
They  turned  around  and  saluted  the  altar  as  they 
passed,  bowing  awkwardly  from  the  waist,  with 
a  sweep  of  the  white  robe,  and  taking  their  places 
in  order  in  the  stalls.  Last  of  all  came  the  abbot, 
a  tall,  gaunt,  ungainly  man  of  middle  age,  with 
a  rough  gray  beard  and  a  kindling  eye,  in  dress 
only  distinguished  from  the  rest  by  the  ring  on  his 
finger  and  the  simple  cross  that  hung  from  a  chain 
around  his  neck.  As  he  strode  to  his  place  the 
bell  and  the  sound  of  footfalls  ceased,  and  there 
was  a  moment's  silence  in  the  chapel,  broken  by 
the  voice  of  the  reader  beginning  the  office  — 
Jul^e,  Domne,  Benedicere  —  with  the  drop  to  a 
low  note  on  the  last  two  syllables.  Some  one  had 
given  Eichard  a  book,  and  he  was  able  to  follow 
the  prayers  and  blessings,  psalms  and  antiphons, 
of  which  the  office  is  composed.  The  continual 
petitions  for  a  quiet  night,  safe  from  evil  and 
dreams,  struck  him  as  beautiful  but  a  little  child 
ish;  but  the  chanting  of  the  psalms,  sung  by  all 
those  rough  voices  to  a  single  Gregorian  tone, 
seemed  to  him  most  austere  and  solemn.  Out  of 
the  many  noble  verses,  one  struck  him  especially 


352  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

and  remained  in  his  memory:  Heu  miJii,  quid 
incolatus  meus  prolongatus  est;  habitavi  cum 
habitantibus  Cedar.  He  did  not  exactly  know 
what  or  where  Kedar  was,  but  he  felt  that  he 
understood  the  psalmist;  that  he  too  had  dwelt 
too  long  in  Kedar,  and  that  "Heu  mihi! "  was 
perhaps  the  only  possible  comment  to  make  upon 
the  fact. 

The  unfamiliar  scene  in  the  chapel,  coming  at 
the  end  of  a  day  of  such  varied  and  searching 
emotions,  impressed  him  more  than  he  realized. 
He  had  always  thought  of  monks  either  as  un 
natural  and  probably  vicious  persons,  or  as  poor, 
emaciated  creatures  who  had  no  resemblance  to 
men;  and  he  was  not  a  little  astonished  at  this 
community  of  robust,  hard-working  monks,  with 
their  eighteen-hours  day,  their  two  vegetarian 
meals,  their  rough,  strong  voices,  their  wholesome 
faces,  their  silence  and  mortification.  Luxury, 
freedom,  the  joys  of  love,  were  things  unknown 
to  them;  yet  they  looked  contented,  and  were 
even,  if  Father  David  was  to  be  believed,  happy ! 
During  the  progress  of  the  office  with  its  prayers 
and  chantings,  its  pauses  and  silences,  its  flicker 
ing  lights  and  row  of  bowed  heads,  he  thought  of 
these  things.  The  scene  was  so  unfamiliar  and  for 
eign,  and  yet  so  English  —  a  bit  of  old  England 
of  the  happy  days  before  men  troubled  their  heads 
about  theology.  Eichard  found  himself  envying 
the  monks  their  harsh,  happy  life  of  labor  and 


THE  HOUSE  ON   THE  ROCK          353 

praise ;  they,  of  all  men,  seemed  to  have  the  right 
to  praise  with  their  lips,  who  praised  so  bravely 
with  the  toil  of  their  hands! 

He  passed  out  with  the  rest  before  the  abbot, 
who  sprinkled  each  one  with  holy  water,  and 
brought  the  day  to  an  end  with  his  blessing.  He 
went  straight  to  bed,  for  he  was  tired,  but  he  did 
not  immediately  go  to  sleep.  The  strange  bed  and 
stranger  environment  kept  him  awake,  still  puz 
zling  over  his  choice;  but  gradually  a  light  seemed 
to  break  on  him.  Mortification !  that  was  a  means 
he  had  not  tried;  perhaps  it  was  the  right  way, 
after  all.  If  these  poor  monks  could  mortify 
themselves  for  nothing  but  an  idea,  surely  he 
could  do  it  in  a  greater  interest.  He  began  to 
realize  that  he  had  always  shirked  the  facts  of 
Toni's  life,  and  that  there  lay  the  whole  difficulty 
of  his  choice.  If  he  could  see  it  as  it  was,  he 
would  see,  perhaps,  that  it  was  impossible  he 
should  have  any  part  in  it;  at  any  rate  he  could 
try;  he  could  subject  himself  to  the  trial  of  see 
ing  her  as  she  was,  without  any  knowledge  of  his 
presence.  Thus,  he  felt,  he  might  cure  himself 
of  the  poison  that  was  destroying  his  life;  he 
could  force  himself  to  face  the  bitter  truth,  at 
any  cost  of  pain  or  loss.  Before  he  fell  asleep, 
with  the  compline  psalms  ringing  in  his  ears,  he 
had  resolved  to  confront  himself  with  the  cruel 
facts  of  Toni's  life;  and  he  fell  asleep  more  hap 
pily  for  the  decision,  although  he  knew  it  would 


354  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

cost  him  an  agony  more  sharp  than  any  he  had 
yet  known.  .  .  .  He  was  awakened  in  the  small 
hours  by  sounds  of  organ  and  voices  from  the 
chapel,  where  the  monks  were  singing  matins  and 
lauds;  and  the  music,  floating  to  him  on  the 
dark  vacancy  of  night,  mingled  with  his  dreams 
and  turned  them  to  prayers. 

He  left  regretfully  the  next  morning,  although 
the  place  seemed  not  the  same  by  daylight;  it 
seemed  a  hundred  years  since  he  had  walked  up 
to  it  in  the  dark  and  storm,  and  since  the  rows 
of  monks  had  chanted  in  the  lighted  chapel.  He 
thanked  Father  David,  who  looked  at  him  a  little 
wistfully. 

"  It's  a  pity  you  are  not  a  Catholic,"  he  said, 
shaking  his  head,  "  you  would  understand  so  many 
things!  We  haven't  all  got  the  same  vocation," 
he  added  with  a  sigh ;  "  some  of  us  can  only  save 
our  souls  by  leaving  the  world,  and  some  only  by 
living  and  working  in  it.  Well,  you  have  a  great 
vocation;  it's  a  great  work  that  you  are  doing, 
my  son.  God  bless  you  in  it;  some  day  —  who 
knows  ?  —  perhaps  you  will  come  to  the  Church ; 
I  will  always  prey  for  you." 

"  Good-by,  father,  and  thank  you  again  a 
thousand  times.  You  have  done  more  for  me  than 
you  know." 

They  shook  hands  warmly,  and  the  monk  stood 
looking  through  the  gate  as  Richard  walked  off 
with  Eufus  frisking  about  him,  glad  of  his  escape 


THE  HOUSE  ON   THE  ROCK          355 

even  from  the  friendly  lay  brothers.  Richard 
looked  back  and  waved  his  hand;  and  the  gate 
clashed  before  the  white-robed  figure,  and  hid  him 
from  view.  Richard  felt  as  though  he  had  left 
a  load  as  well  as  a  friend  behind  him  in  the  mon 
astery;  and  though  he  guessed  something  of  the 
torture  of  what  lay  before  him,  he  felt  that  he 
would  have  strength  to  endure  it.  His  long  walk 
back  across  the  downs  was  not  unhappy,  and  he 
slept  soundly  in  his  own  bed  that  night.  The  next 
day  was  spent  in  making  some  final  arrangements 
for  the  installation  of  the  keepers  and  the  inau 
guration  of  the  light,  in  case  he  should  not  be 
back  in  time  to  see  it  lit  for  the  first  time;  and 
that  evening,  with  a  courage  that  began  to  waver 
a  little,  he  started  for  London. 


RICHAED  arrived  in  Paris  in  the  evening, 
dressed,  dined  alone  and  miserably,  and  went 
to  the  theatre  to  pass  the  hours  that  divide  the 
Parisian  evening  from  the  night.  From  the 
moment  of  his  arrival  at  the  railway  station,  the 
whole  of  his  former  sensations  had  returned  to 
him  in  a  flood  of  memories  and  associations;  he 
felt  like  an  exile  come  home.  The  fact  that  a 
fortnight  represented  the  whole  of  his  life  there 
was  contradicted  at  every  turn  by  the  ghosts 
that  haunted  him  as  he  drove  through  the  streets 
and  boulevards;  and  he  realized  what  most  of  us 
realize  clearly  at  least  once  in  our  lives  —  that 
time,  as  we  commonly  reckon  it,  is  but  an  illusion, 
a  convenient  symbol,  and  that  the  intensity  with 
which  we  live  is  alone  the  measure  of  our  exist 
ence.  As  he  walked  through  Paris  on  that 
autumn  evening,  all  the  rest  of  his  life  seemed 
to  fall  away  from  him  like  a  perished  husk,  and 
to  become  a  thing  of  dream  and  vapor.  His  long 
and  strenuous  education,  his  happy  comradeship 
in  work  with  his  father,  his  pride  in  the  light 
house,  the  labors  in  which  he  had  thought  to  find 
a  sober  and  immortal  joy  —  these  now  appeared, 
356 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE  ROCK  357 

but  as  an  episode  in  a  dim  past;  and  the  lights 
and  sounds  of  evening  Paris,  its  white  dignity, 
its  luxurious  glitter,  represented  the  real  and 
central  meaning  of  existence. 

It  added  something  to  his  misery  that  he  should 
thus,  returning  to  tear  from  his  heart  the  beloved 
thing  that  preyed  upon  it,  find  his  whole  soul 
going  out  in  longing,  and  borne  away  on  the  shin 
ing  river  of  pleasures  that  forever  fleets  through 
Paris.  He  had  come  determined  to  see  the  ugL' 
ness  which  he  believed  to  underlie  the  whole  ban 
quet  of  pleasure;  he  found  it  more  beautiful, 
more  alluring,  more  compelling  than  ever.  He 
had  come  determined  to  realize  that  Toni  belonged 
to  that  world  and  not  to  his;  that  she  came  of  a 
different  race,  breathed  a  different  atmosphere 
from  his;  that  she,  in  her  single-hearted  service 
of  pleasure,  was  a  creature  of  nature,  and  he  of 
civilization;  that  she  was  primitive  and  eternal, 
while  he  was  of  time  and  evolution.  Some  such 
assurance  he  had  arrived  at  in  his  absence;  but 
now  that  he  was  back  in  Paris  the  human  in 
fluence  of  their  union  seized  upon  him  again, 
and  gave  the  lie  to  his  pretences.  The  very  at 
mosphere  of  Paris  on  this  scented  September 
evening  was  warm  and  redolent  of  her,  and  clung 
about  his  senses  like  the  scent  of  her  hair  and  the 
touch  of  her  skin;  and  as  the  evening  throngs 
began  to  surge  in  the  boulevards,  and  the  tide  of 
pleasure  to  rise  and  flow  around  him,  he  found 


358  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

himself  hastening  as  though  to  a  loving  tryst, 
instead  of  to  the  crucifixion  on  which  he  had  de 
termined. 

He  stayed  no  more  than  half  an  hour  in  the 
theatre :  he  could  listen  or  attend  to  nothing  but 
the  rows  of  men  and  women  in  the  audience,  so 
many  of  them  happy  to  be  together,  and  untrou 
bled  by  such  tortures  and  difficulties  as  his.  He 
wandered  out  again;  and  now  he  found  himself 
regarding  every  well-dressed  man  he  saw  with 
bitterness  and  hatred,  and  with  the  suspicion 
that  he  was  a  buyer  in  the  terrible  markets  of 
pleasure.  Yet  his  mind  was  not  overwhelmed  by 
his  emotions ;  he  knew  what  he  had  come  for,  and 
meant  to  do  it.  It  was  only  when  sights  and 
sounds  set  trains  of  associated  ideas  on  fire  in  his 
mind  that  his  step  quickened  and  he  walked  aa 
though  in  an  eager  dream ;  till  suddenly  he  would 
remember,  with  a  sickening  shudder,  what  he  had 
come  for,  and  would  arrest  his  hurrying  steps. 
He  found  himself  in  the  Place  de  la  Madeleine, 
that  quiet  backwater  where  the  tides  of  night  do 
not  flow,  but  whence  can  be  heard  their  uproar 
as  they  go  by  on  the  adjoining  boulevard;  and 
outside  a  cafe  there,  under  the  shadow  of  the 
great  church,  he  sat  down  to  collect  and  pull  him 
self  together  for  the  ordeal  that  was  before  him. 

The  street,  so  busy  by  day,  so  quiet  by  night, 
was  almost  empty;  and  as  he  looked  up  at  the 
great  colonnade  of  the  Madeleine  ranked  against 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE  ROCK  359 

the  star-dusted  sky,  something  of  the  peace  that 
resides  in  things  of  stone  and  marble  rested  for 
a  moment  on  his  feverish  mind.  That  for  which 
the  building  stood  made  no  definite  appeal  to  him, 
and  there  was  for  him  nothing  in  common  between 
the  wind-beaten  Cornish  monastery  and  this  fash 
ionable  theatre  of  religion  —  the  Catholic  opera 
as  Lauder  had  called  it.  But  its  beauty  is  a  pagan 
beauty,  and  externally  at  least  it  remains  a  Greek 
temple;  and  its  wonderful  mass  and  proportion, 
floating  as  it  were  in  the  violet  sky,  pleased  and 
soothed  Eichard's  jangled  nerves.  Until  mid 
night  he  sat  beneath  its  shadow;  then  he  got  up 
and  walked  quickly  toward  Maixim's. 

As  on  the  night  of  his  first  visit  there,  the  tide 
of  money  and  beauty,  pleasure,  folly,  vice,  and 
love,  was  flowing  in  at  the  door.  The  four  wheel 
ing  panels  revolved  unceasingly;  carriages  drove 
up  at  every  moment,  and  dainty  figures  clad  in 
lace  and  chiffon  hurried  across  the  strip  of  pave 
ment,  plunged  through  the  turning  door,  and 
waited  to  be  joined  by  their  black-garbed  partners. 
There  was  a  constant  sound  of  carriage  doors  being 
slammed,  and  of  horses'  feet  striking  the  polished 
roadway.  Whenever  the  door  revolved  a  snatch 
of  music  made  itself  heard,  and  a  stream  of  light 
shot  across  the  pavement,  as  though  the  place  were 
literally  overflowing  with  light  and  life  and  sound. 

As  he  passed  the  door  the  porter  touched  his 


360  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

hat  to  Eichard  —  an  incident  the  essential  irony 
of  which  was  not  lost  upon  him.  He,  recognized 
as  a  patron!  The  hot  air  of  the  place  rushed 
upon  him  like  a  vicious  caress,  redolent  of  wine, 
and  food,  and  flowers,  and  tobacco  smoke.  The 
restaurant  was,  as  usual,  crowded;  the  long  tables 
were  packed  with  the  same  throng  —  Eichard 
could  have  said,  almost  the  same  faces,  for  places 
have  a  way  of  lending  expression  to  the  counte 
nances  of  those  who  frequent  them.  In  the  rows 
of  well-dressed  men  there  Eichard  recognized  what 
he  had  come  to  know  as  the  "  Maxim  face "  — 
an  expression  jaded  and  jangled  by  the  heat  and 
the  noise,  excited  by  champagne,  and  greedy  with 
sensual  hunger.  He  pulled  his  hat  down  over  his 
forehead,  and  made  his  way  rapidly  to  a  corner, 
where  room  was  made  for  him  between  two  ladies 
who  were  without  partners,  and  who  with  one 
comprehending  look  appraised  him  as  a  person 
who  was  not  for  the  moment  a  buyer.  The  in 
stinct  of  the  demi-mondaine  in  such  matters  is 
seldom  at  fault,  nor  is  her  recognition  of  friendly 
generosity.  One  of  them,  a  tired-looking  English 
girl  with  beautiful  eyes,  put  her  hand  on  Eichard's 
arm. 

"  Order  me  some  champagne,  will  you,  dear  ?  " 
she  said.  "  I've  got  no  money,  and  if  I  don't 
order  something  they  won't  let  me  stop." 

Eichard  was  already  experienced  enough  to  rec 
ognize,  in  the  rather  shabby  forty-guinea  lace 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE  ROCK  361 

frock,  the  beautiful  hat  no  longer  fresh,  the  well- 
designed  imitation  jewels,  and  the  cleaned  white 
kid  gloves,  signs  of  a  struggle,  a  gamble  with 
heavy  stakes.  He  had  learned  also  that  directness 
and  definiteness  of  intention  are  never  in  that 
world  regarded  as  an  insult. 

"  All  right,"  he  said,  "  with  pleasure ;  only  I'm 
not  here  for  amusement.  I've  come  to  look  for 
somebody." 

"  You're  a  kind  boy,"  she  said.  "  Now  I'm 
going  to  sit  at  another  table.  Good  night,  and 
thank  you."  And,  when  he  had  given  the  order 
for  her,  she  went  off,  with  a  sympathetic  tact 
which  is  one  of  the  many  virtues  of  her  world. 
Eichard  ordered  the  inevitable  champagne  for 
himself  and  a  box  of  cigarettes,  which  he  began 
feverishly  to  smoke  as  from  his  corner  he  care 
fully  scrutinized  the  sea  of  faces  at  the  tables 
beyond. 

But  before  his  anxious  gaze  had  travelled  very- 
far  he  was  thrilled  by  the  sound  of  a  well-known 
voice,  rising  clear  above  all  the  hubbub  and  babel. 

"  0  my  Gott,  I  never  laugh  so  much  in  all  my 
life!  I  give  you  my  vord  — "  and  a  ripple  of 
laughter,  as  musical  as  a  child's,  flowed  out  across 
the  room. 

For  a  moment  the  scene  went  dark  before  Rich 
ard's  eyes;  it  was  only  for  a  moment,  and  imme 
diately  it  was  there  before  him  again,  with  its 
glowing  lights,  white  tables,  flowers,  gay  dresses, 


362  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

jewels,  faces;  but  in  that  moment  of  eclipse  it 
had  changed.  It  was  no  longer  a  miscellaneous 
collection  of  strangers;  it  had  become  trans 
formed  into  a  setting  for  one  face,  one  voice,  one 
figure.  She  was  sitting  quite  near  him,  but  half- 
turned  away  from  him,  and  obviously  she  had  not 
seen  him.  She  was  looking  more  radiant  than 
ever;  that  auriferous  quality  in  her  hair  and  eyes 
and  skin  that  had  always  dazzled  and  delighted 
him  shone  all  about  her,  and  made  of  her  a  sun 
among  the  stars  and  constellations  around  her. 
His  eyes  were  held  to  her  helplessly  for  a  moment, 
and  he  felt  his  soul  flowing  out  of  them  to  her; 
and  it  was  with  a  great  physical  effort  that  he 
turned  away  from  her  and  looked  at  her  partner. 
They  were  seated  alone  at  a  table  bearing  the 
remains  of  a  luxurious  and  extravagant  dinner. 
The  table  was  covered  with  rare  orchids;  one  or 
two  boxes  of  impossible  fruit  —  impossibly  out  of 
season  —  were  lying  about;  a  glittering  edifice 
of  ice  was  melting  away  in  the  heat  on  an  adjoin 
ing  table;  and  unfinished  bottles  of  champagne, 
a  decanter  of  port,  a  flask  of  liqueur,  and  half  a 
dozen  boxes  of  different  kinds  of  cigarettes  com 
pleted  the  luxurious  furniture  of  the  meal,  which 
had  evidently  protracted  itself  throughout  the 
whole  of  the  evening.  The  centre  of  the  table  was 
occupied  by  a  dwarf  cherry-tree  in  a  pot,  on  whose 
unnatural  little  branches  the  full-sized  crimson 
fruit  was  growing.  While  Eichard  was  still  look- 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE   ROCK  363 

ing  at  her,  Toni  pulled  off  a  cherry,  put  the  end 
of  the  stalk  between  her  teeth,  and  leaned  over 
until  her  lips  almost  touched  those  of  the  man 
opposite  to  her. 

It  was  then  that  Eichard  forced  his  eyes  away 
from  her  to  the  man;  and  as  he  looked  a  wave  of 
bitter  sickness  and  nausea  flowed  over  him.  Sit 
ting  at  the  table  with  Toni,  and  visibly  gloating 
over  her,  sat  a  big  man  with  a  hard,  coarse,  brutal 
face.  His  beady  eyes  shone  with  lust  and  desire; 
his  leathery  skin  hung  in  puffs  and  pouches  about 
his  broad  face ;  and  his  gross  mouth  trembled  and 
twitched  as  he  leaned  forward  and  closed  his  lips 
over  Toni's  cherry.  She  dropped  her  eyelids  in 
an  affectation  of  languorous  rapture  that  set  the 
creature  opposite  to  her  agog  with  excited  amuse 
ment.  He  gurgled  and  shook  with  laughter ;  then 
suddenly  he  stopped;  a  hard,  almost  painful  look 
of  seriousness  and  greed  came  into  his  eyes,  and 
he  leaned  over  and  whispered  in  Toni's  ear. 

The  petulant  pucker  that  Richard  knew  so  well 
came  into  her  forehead. 

"  Oh,  no,  my  dear,  I  am  so  tired.  I  never  was 
so  tired  in  all  my  life.  True  —  really ;  "  and  she 
nodded  her  head  briskly  till  the  flowers  in  her 
hat  shook,  and  her  gaze  wandered  abstractedly 
around  the  room.  The  man  shrugged  his  shoul 
ders  and  sat  back,  lighting  another  cigarette,  and 
eying  her  through  the  smoke. 

After  his  first  qualm  of  sickness  and  horror, 


364  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

Eichard  steeled  himself  to  look  and  listen,  al 
though  his  limbs  trembled  and  his  brown  face  was 
mottled  and  ashy  with  the  agony  he  was  suffer 
ing.  Although  he  sat  immovable  in  a  kind  of 
trance,  he  was  vividly  conscious  of  the  scene  before 
him;  and  he  noticed  again  that  strange  clarity 
of  sound  in  this  heated  room,  so  that  one  seemed 
to  hear  quite  clearly  fifty  conversations  going  on 
at  once.  Their  aggregate  noise  never  seemed  to 
obscure  or  obliterate  the  individual  voices.  He 
had  heard  quite  clearly  every  word  spoken  by 
Toni  and  the  man;  and  he  knew  that  while  he 
sat  there  he  must  still  listen,  and  drink  to  the 
dregs  the  bitter  cup  that  he  had  brewed  for  him 
self. 

And  as  he  thus  sat  in  the  gay  market  of  passion 
and  beauty,  amid  the  clamor  of  laughter  and 
talk,  the  clink  of  dishes  and  glasses,  and  the  pas 
sionate  melodies  of  the  orchestra,  he  knew  that 
he  loved  her  with  all  his  heart  and  soul  —  with 
everything  but  his  judgment.  He  bravely  faced 
the  facts;  he  wondered,  indeed,  if  the  love  in 
which  judgment  can  share  could  be  love  at  all, 
and  whether  the  very  essence  of  love  did  not  con 
sist  in  abandonment  to  forces  to  which  the  mind 
is  an  eternal  subordinate ;  but  as  he  looked  at  her 
he  remembered,  and  knew  that  there  was  nothing 
base  or  shameful  in  his  love.  Toni  was  looking 
around  the  room,  as  though  searching  for  some 
one;  and  one  of  her  rare  moments  of  repose  had 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE  ROCK  365 

fallen  on  her.  How  lovely  her  fair,  small  face  was 
now,  with  its  smouldering  golden  eyes  under  the 
tawny  hair.  God !  how  grave  and  beautiful,  with 
the  gravity  and  beauty  of  a  wondering  child !  Yet 
in  the  eyes  there  hovered  an  ageless,  inscrutable 
mystery;  they  seemed  again  to  Eichard  to  draw 
him  down  into  their  depths,  as  into  bottomless 
wells  of  time.  Suddenly  he  realized  quite  clearly 
that  she  was  a  thousand  years,  a  thousand  miles, 
away  from  him;  that  a  barrier  as  impassable  as 
that  of  death  had  arisen  between  them;  that  he 
was  now  looking  at  a  heavenly  picture,  an  effigy, 
of  some  one  who  was  lost  to  him. 

From  a  corner  table,  where  a  distinguished- 
looking  man  and  an  exceedingly  refined  and  beau 
tiful  woman  had  been  sitting  quietly,  with  a  rapt 
and  happy  expression  on  their  faces,  a  maltre 
d'liotel  brought  a  note  to  the  leader  of  the  orches 
tra.  He  bowed  and  smiled,  spoke  to  his  instru 
mentalists,  brought  his  fiddle  over  to  the  corner 
table,  and,  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  woman  there, 
began  the  first  solemn,  sonorous  notes  of  Wolf 
ram's  song  in  "  Tannhauser."  The  trembling 
string  almost  articulated  the  sombre  words, — 

"  Wie  Todesahnung,  Damm'rung  deckt  die  Lande,"  — - 

and  as  the  gloomy  phrase,  in  such  sharp  con 
trast  to  the  waltzes  and  riotous  rhythms  that 
had  preceded  it,  fell  upon  the  conversational 


366  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

clamor,  there  was  a  sudden  hush,  and  then  a 
murmur  of  impatient  disapproval.  A  woman 
sitting  near  the  band  shouted:  "  Oil,  la,  la! 
Dis-donc,  c'est  pas  un  enterrement?"  but  a 
dozen  voices  said  "  Sh-sh ! "  and  the  incident  was 
over.  Wagner  is  generally  triumphant  in  propor 
tion  to  the  humanity  of  his  audience;  and  in  this 
very  human  crowd  the  exotic  sentimentality  of 
0  du  mein  holder  Abendstern,  innocently  sung  by 
the  respectable  \Yolfram,  but  really  a  strain  from 
the  Venusberg  if  ever  music  was,  had  its  due  and 
impressive  effect. 

But  with  its  very  first  notes  came  to  Eichard  an 
almost  intolerable  stab  of  pain  and  association. 
It  took  him  back  to  that  long  day  of  happiness 
that  had  ended  with  "  Tannhauser  "  at  the  Opera, 
when  Toni's  delight  in  it,  and  his  own  delight 
in  her  sensitive  and  changing  impressions,  had 
made  it  a  new  thing  for  him.  He  remembered 
how,  in  the  dark  hours  of  the  night,  he  had  whis 
pered  to  her :  "  die  ndcht'ge  Damm'rung  theilt 
dein  lieber  Strahl!"  and  the  little  tremor  of  un 
derstanding  with  which  she  had  responded.  Now, 
as  this  echo  of  that  evening  sounded  across  the 
crowded  Bacchanalian  scene,  he  dared  not  look  at 
Toni;  the  music  brought  back  with  far  too  acute 
and  aching  a  reality  the  creature  that  he  and  the 
unwonted  surroundings  had  made  of  her  in  those 
happy  days.  He  listened  to  every  note  of  the 
melodious  recitative  that  floated  about  as  though 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE   ROCK          367 

on  a  shimmer  of  clouds  and  starlight,  and  after 
ward  to  the  voluptuous  song;  and  then  he  heard 
an  exclamation  from  her,  and  looked  up. 

She  was  staring  into  her  partner's  face,  her 
eyes  glittering  with  tears  which  she  kept  brushing 
away,  and  which  reappeared  as  fast  as  she  dried 
them.  The  man  was  questioning  her,  evidently 
puzzled  and  put  out;  and  then  suddenly  she  lost 
all  control  of  herself,  and,  burying  her  face  in  her 
hands,  burst  into  sobs. 

"  What's  the  matter,  my  dear  ?  Tell  me  what's 
the  matter,"  reiterated  the  man,  somewhat  em 
barrassed  by  an  occurrence  that  in  any  other  place 
would  have  made  them  both  ridiculous.  Here 
where  intoxication  and  revelry,  tears  and  laughter, 
fury  and  amiability,  all  bubbled  together  in  the 
cauldron  of  pleasure,  no  one  took  any  notice  ex 
cept  the  people  at  the  adjoining  tables;  and  even 
they  were  merely  politely  interested,  with  the  in 
terest  of  people  who  have  themselves  understood 
and  suffered  much,  and  who  know  life  too  well 
to  be  capable  of  astonishment.  And  so  far  was 
Toni  from  misunderstanding  or  resenting  their 
interest  that  she  took  them  into  her  audience, 
and  included  them  in  her  explanation. 

"  0  my  Gott,  what  a  fool  —  a  fool  I  am !  I 
never  was  such  a  fool  in  my  life.  But  I  tell  you, 
that  music,  it  reminds  me  —  you  see?  —  of  some 
von  —  a  man  I  love  once  —  0  my  Gott,  how  I  love 
that  man !  We  were  so  happy  together  —  I  never 


368  THE   SANDS   OF   PLEASURE 

was  so  happy  in  all  my  life ;  he  was  such  a  smart 
man  —  really,  I  tell  you,  a  smart  man,  and  he  was 
mad  —  oh,  madly  —  in  love  with  me.  But  he  got 
no  money,  my  dear ;  he  was  no  use  —  no  money ; 
I  tell  you,  I  was  a  damn  fool  to  fall  in  love  with 
him.  And  yet  —  but  we  quarrel ;  once  we  quarrel, 
and  then  twice  —  no  good !  And  this  music  you 
see  —  'Tannhauser' —  we  hear  it  together  once; 
and  it  remind  me  of  him.  0  my  Gott ! "  And 
her  tears  flowed  afresh. 

Eichard  heard  it  all  with  a  strange  mixture  of 
emotion.  Her  tears  —  he  had  never  seen  her  eyes 
shining  with  tears  before  —  scalded  his  heart,  as 
her  momentary  unhappiness,  which  he  was  power 
less  to  assuage,  harrowed  his  whole  being;  yet 
he  was  not  unconscious  of  the  element  of  comedy 
in  the  whole  thing;  indeed,  he  was  perfectly  con 
scious  of  it,  and  he  was  not  sure  that  it  did  not 
add  a  further  element  of  misery  to  the  situation. 
But  she  cared  for  him;  she  remembered  that  she 
had  been  happy  with  him!  Out  of  the  tumbling 
ruin  that  surrounded  him  he  caught  at  that,  and 
held  to  it.  It  seemed  to  redeem  so  much,  and 
somehow  to  make  the  inevitable  end  less  bitter. 
That  she  should  place  it  all  as  an  incident  in  the 
remote  past  was  the  instinct  of  her  class  for  water 
tight  compartments,  for  separating  the  different 
and  necessarily  hostile  elements  of  life  from  dis 
astrous  collision;  that  she  should  cry  it  aloud  to 
the  surrounding  world  was  characteristic  of  her 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE  ROCK          369 

primitive  elemental  outlook  on  life  —  an  outlook 
which  did  not  include  shame  of  what  one  does  or 
suffers. 

Yet  Eichard  felt  that  the  situation  was  becom 
ing  unbearable.  He  had  come  to  this  place  for 
the  express  purpose  of  suffering  and  seeing  things 
clearly;  he  had  undergone,  was  acutely  undergo 
ing,  the  suffering;  and  he  was  wise  enough  to 
desire  also  to  accomplish  the  real  end  for  which 
he  had  deliberately  exposed  himself  to  these  tor 
tures.  If  Toni  should  by  any  chance  discover 
him  here  the  consequences  might  be  disastrous; 
he  was  longing  now  to  go  away  and  escape  from 
the  intolerable  strain;  yet  this  tearful  episode 
had  disturbed  him,  and  interrupted  the  process  of 
mortification  that  had  been  going  on  in  his  heart. 
He  must  drink  the  cup  to  its  dregs. 

A  little  space  had  been  cleared  at  the  end  of 
the  room,  and  half  a  dozen  couples  were  dancing 
to  the  gay  strains  that  had  succeeded  the  violin 
solo.  Suddenly  the  tune  of  La  Mascisce  was  struck 
up;  and  to  its  first  notes  Toni  dried  her  eyes, 
broke  into  smiles  again  (much  to  the  satisfaction 
of  her  host),  and  clapped  her  hands  with  delight. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  she  reassured  him,  "  I'm  all 
right  —  quite  right  now.  I  was  a  fool,  my  dear, 
a  fool.  Oh,  there's  Germaine,  I  must  go  and 
dance  with  her."  And  without  a  word  she  ran 
off,  joined  the  dancers,  and  in  a  moment  was 
perfectly  happily  engaged  in  the  performance  of 


370  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

the  somewhat  ugly  and  indecent  dance  of  the 
moment.  Her  lightning  changes  bewildered  Rich 
ard,  yet  they  helped  him  to  realize  the  shifting 
nature  of  the  emotional  sands  on  which  he  had 
tried  to  build  his  happiness.  The  building  was 
there,  but  the  foundations  would  not  hold  it  up; 
it  was  destined  to  fall;  and  as,  well  screened 
behind  other  spectators,  he  watched  Toni  floating 
happily  around  the  dancing-place,  he  uncon 
sciously  took  his  farewell  of  her  beauty,  drinking 
it  in  for  the  last  time.  The  pain  that  he  suffered 
was  less  the  pain  of  a  wound  than  that  of  a  death ; 
something  he  felt  was  dying  within  him,  and  it 
was  a  cold,  long-drawn,  and  terrifying  experi 
ence. 

Something  now  occurred,  however,  that  helped 
to  bring  his  self-inflicted  torture  to  an  end.  Toni 
suddenly  caught  sight  of  a  good-looking  youth 
whom  she  knew,  ran  over  to  him,  and  led  him  out 
to  dance  with  her.  It  was,  of  course,  against  all 
the  etiquette  of  her  profession,  while  she  was  the 
guest  of  some  one  else;  but  it  was  thoroughly 
characteristic  of  her  waywardness  and  perversity 
and  impatience  of  restraint;  it  was  a  habit  from 
which  he  himself  had  suffered,  and  it  explained 
probably  why  she  was  there  at  all,  and  not  the 
permanent  mistress  of  some  brilliant  hotel  in  the 
Champs  Elysees.  Richard  instinctively  turned  to 
look  at  the  hard  man  who  was  still  sitting  alone 
at  the  table ;  and  he  saw  his  coarse  face  turn  sour 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE  ROCK  371 

and  scowling.  Jealousy  is  always  an  ugly  pas 
sion;  but  the  kind  of  jealousy  felt  by  this  poor 
creature,  who  was  so  repulsive  that  he  could  only 
at  the  best  look  for  pleasures  bought,  and  bought 
at  a  high  price,  shone  upon  his  face  and  trans 
figured  it  in  a  perfect  ecstasy  of  ugliness.  The 
exaggerated  and  shameless  intimacy  of  the  dance 
added  to  his  tortures;  and  for  a  moment  Eichard 
had  an  unreasonable  pang  of  hope  that  he  would 
be  so  disgusted  with  Toni  as  to  leave  the  place. 

But  her  acute  instinct  taught  her  just  how  far 
she  could  go;  and  it  was  not  unlikely  that  the 
whole  thing  had  been  deliberately  done  to  add  the 
final  whet  of  jealousy  to  the  man's  desire.  She 
only  danced  a  few  turns  with  her  friend,  said 
good  night  to  him,  and  returned,  radiant  and 
sparkling,  to  the  table.  Eichard  with  a  shudder 
saw  her  stoop  down  and  give  the  hard  man  a  kiss. 
Then  she  sat  down  opposite  to  him,  while  he 
leaned  forward  and  began  to  speak  earnestly  in 
a  low  voice. 

What  he  said  Eichard  could  not  hear,  although 
he  knew  only  too  well.  Toni's  replies  he  heard 
quite  distinctly. 

"  No,  my  dear ;  I  don't  do  that  sort  of  thing. 
It's  not  good  enough.  I'm  not  that  sort  of  per 
son." 

The  man  spoke  again. 

"Ah,  that's  another  thing.  Where  you  say? 
Ritz's?  You  want  me  to  come  and  stay  at  Ritz's 


372  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

with  you  for  a  fortnight?  I  don't  think  I  want 
to.  I'm  very  tired,  and  I  want  to  go  to  Vienna. 
No,  my  dear,  another  time  I  stay  with  you." 

Again  the  man  spoke,  this  time  with  a  shocking 
and  repulsive  intensity. 

"  How  much  ?  "  The  clear  young  voice  put  the 
question  with  just  a  tremor  of  well-disguised 
anxiety.  The  world  has  admiration  for  stock 
brokers  who  have  a  cool  head  and  a  sure  touch 
in  the  financial  dealings  by  which  they  live;  it 
has  none  for  a  girl  of  three  and  twenty  who, 
against  society,  with  no  protection  of  law  or  social 
machinery,  has  also  to  transact  all  alone  the  diffi 
cult  and  delicate  negotiations  by  means  of  which 
the  rent  of  her  flat  and  the  price  of  her  motor-car 
are  paid. 

Richard  heard  her,  saw  her;  he  heard  the 
price,  saw  the  whole  hideous  bargain  struck ;  knew 
that  the  unlovely  creature  opposite  had  a  lease  of 
the  youth  and  fairness,  the  heavenly  summer 
beauty  that  for  him  had  been  a  passport  to  para 
dise.  .  .  .  He  could  bear  no  more.  The  scene 
swam  before  him  while  he  called  the  mailre  d'hotel 
and  paid  his  bill.  He  stumbled  out  to  the  door 
way,  and  the  great  swinging  panels  revolved 
behind  him.  Of  a  sudden  the  music  faded  from 
his  ears,  the  lights  and  flowers  from  his  sight; 
and  with  them,  in  one  awful  wrench,  were  torn 
from  his  heart,  broken  and  bleeding,  the  nerves 
and  roots  of  his  love.  For  the  moment  the  world 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE   ROCK  373 

was  blotted  out  in  loathing  and  horror  of  him 
self  and  of  her.  .  .  . 

And  yet  —  if  we  could  but  understand,  if  we 
could  climb  to  those  heights  where  there  is  no 
forgiveness  because  there  is  no  need  for  it!  Mo 
ments  of  storm  may  tempt  us  to  injustice,  but 
beyond  storms  there  is  a  serene  region  of  the  mind 
to  which  in  happier  moments  we  may  attain, 
where  we  may  learn  that  the  wise  and  prudent 
have  no  monopoly  of  eternal  pity  and  love. 


V 

In  Salutem  Omnium 

IT  was  nearly  thirty-six  hours  later  when  Kich- 
ard  sank  back  with  a  sigh  of  relief  on  the 
cushions  of  his  seat  in  the  Cornish  express  and 
watched  the  riverside  towns  sliding  past  the  win 
dow.  The  interval  since  that  moment  when  the 
door  of  Maxim's  had  closed  behind  him  seemed 
filled  with  a  life  of  nightmare.  He  had  walked 
and  walked,  not  knowing  or  caring  whither, 
through  the  empty  streets  of  Paris,  until  the 
broadening  sunshine  had  put  his  evening  dress  to 
shame  and  sent  him  back  to  his  hotel.  There, 
when  he  had  bathed  and  changed,  he  found  a  tele 
gram  summoning  him  to  a  meeting  of  the  Trinity 
Board  the  same  afternoon,  which  he  could  just 
attend  by  catching  the  early  express  to  London. 
But  during  his  tormented  walk  in  the  small  hours, 
a  desire  had  gradually  taken  shape  in  his  mind  — 
had,  indeed,  come  to  the  rescue  of  his  tortured 
endurance  —  the  desire  to  be  present  at  the  Snail 
when  the  lighthouse  was  first  lighted.  That  was 
to  be  on  Friday  at  sunset;  and  the  telegram, 
874 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE  ROCK          375 

which  suggested  the  possibility  of  some  interfer 
ence  with  this  plan,  only  strengthened  his  desire. 
In  a  kind  of  numb  dream  he  had  hurried  to  Lon 
don,  where  he  arrived  on  the  Thursday  afternoon. 
An  early  autumn  gale  was  brewing  in  the  Chan 
nel,  and  during  the  rough  passage  he  had  taken 
a  delight  in  remaining  on  deck  when  every  one 
else  sought  shelter,  and  getting  drenched  with  the 
spray  that  continually  broke  over  the  ship's  side. 
He  had  just  had  time  to  change,  and  to  attend 
the  meeting  of  the  Board,  at  which  his  final  ac 
counts  were  passed  and  he  received  the  congratu 
lations  of  the  Brethren. 

"  But  all  work  and  no  play,  you  know,  Mr. 
Grey"  —  one  kindly  old  gentleman  had  said  — 
"  it  won't  do.  You've  been  working  too  hard,  and 
you're  looking  quite  knocked  up.  You  must  take 
a  holiday.  We  can't  afford  to  have  you  laid  up." 
And  he  had  patted  him  kindly  on  the  back,  and 
been  a  little  hurt  when  Eichard  moved  abruptly 
away;  for  his  nerves  were  in  such  a  state  that  a 
friendly  human  voice  and  touch  brought  him  to 
the  verge  of  breakdown.  Moreover,  the  Board  had 
asked  for  some  detailed  plans  to  be  prepared  at 
once;  and  this  had  upset  him,  for  it  meant  that 
he  could  not  catch  the  night  train,  and  would 
probably  miss  the  first  lighting  of  the  tower,  on 
which  he  found  his  mind  had  been  set.  But  at 
any  rate  it  occupied  him,  and  kept  up  the  rush 
that  had  lasted  ever  since  the  early  morning;  and 


376 

he  worked  far  into  the  night  and  had  only  finished 
at  two  o'clock,  when  he  threw  himself  exhausted 
upon  his  bed  and  slept  dreamlessly  until  nine.  He 
had  been  awakened  by  squalls  of  rain  that,  even  in 
the  sheltered  London  street,  rattled  and  streamed 
against  his  window;  and  he  had  been  obliged  to 
hurry  through  official  occupations  without  a  mo 
ment  to  think  of  his  own  affairs,  until  he  had 
just  caught  the  10.50  express  at  Paddington  with 
out  a  minute  to  spare. 

And  even  now,  as  he  felt  the  train  gathering 
speed  for  its  long  journey  to  the  west,  he  had 
scarcely  time  to  think  of  what  hovered  like  a 
shadow  in  the  back  of  his  mind.  He  had  come  to 
desire  passionately  to  sit  in  the  lighthouse  on  that 
night  of  its  first  illumination.  He  had  reconciled 
himself  to  being  late,  as  he  could  not  reach 
Helston  until  after  seven,  and  it  was  nearly  two 
hours'  drive  to  Poltesco  Head;  and  his  only  pre 
occupation  was  whether  he  could  reach  the  light 
house  at  all.  The  wind,  which  was  from  the 
southeast,  had  every  appearance  of  rising  to  a 
gale,  and  would  in  any  case  mean  a  heavy  sea  on 
the  Snail,  and  it  would  probably  be  out  of  the 
question  to  attempt  it  in  a  boat.  His  only  chance 
was  if  he  could  reach  the  rock  at  low  water,  and 
make  use  of  the  sling  and  cradle  that  bridged  the 
channel  between  the  mainland  and  the  rocks.  He 
had  no  almanac  with  him,  and  he  spent  half  an 
hour  in  calculations  on  a  piece  of  paper  as  to  the 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE   ROCK          377 

time  of  low  water.  The  result  showed  dead  low 
water  at  half-past  eight,  which  suited  so  nearly 
with  his  needs  that  he  doubted  the  accuracy  of 
his  calculations,  or  of  his  memory  of  the  tides, 
and  went  all  over  them  again.  At  last  he  realized 
that  he  must  trust  to  luck,  and  that  all  his  figur 
ing  would  not  alter  the  tides  by  an  inch.  He  threw 
the  paper  away,  and  leaned  back  against  the 
cushions. 

The  train  roared  through  Chippenham,  and 
sped  out  again  into  the  stormy  country,  where 
the  trees  were  tossing  in  the  wind  and  shedding 
their  leaves  fast  before  it.  A  squall  of  rain 
struck  against  the  windows,  and  drowned  the  land 
scape  in  streaming  tears.  Eichard's  thoughts, 
that  had  been  clinging  desperately  to  whatever 
eyes  could  see,  now  turned  inwards,  to  feed  upon 
themselves.  Gingerly,  like  one  who  treads  un 
willingly  a  path  that  he  knows  leads  to  horror, 
he  retraced  the  events  of  the  past  thirty-six 
hours.  His  hurry  to  catch  the  train,  his  awaken 
ing  in  the  London  bedroom,  his  night  of  hard 
work,  the  meeting  of  the  Board,  the  stormy  jour 
ney  from  France,  the  telegram  at  his  hotel  in 
Paris,  his  early  morning  wandering  in  the  streets ; 
his  thoughts  stopped  there,  like  a  shying  horse 
that  refuses  to  cross  a  dark  bridge.  Twice  he 
went  back,  and  led  himself  up  to  that  moment, 
and  twice  shirked  it,  fled  from  it.  In  a  sort  of 
panic  he  opened  his  suit-case  to  find  a  book;  as 


378  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

he  did  so  he  displaced  a  hair-brush  —  a  soft  one 
which  he  was  not  in  the  habit  of  using.  He  was 
putting  it  into  its  place  when  he  caught  a  waft 
of  perfume;  he  took  out  the  brush  again  and 
smelled  it. 

Instantly,  without  effort  or  terror,  his  thoughts 
turned  like  a  flight  of  birds  back  to  the  summer 
of  his  happiness.  He  was  with  Toni  again;  this 
was  the  brush  that  she  had  used  on  that  laughing 
morning  at  Barbizon,  —  oh,  so  many  years  ago ! 
—  and  still  held  a  faint  memory  of  the  perfume 
she  used.  He  saw  her,  not  as  on  that  last  terrible 
night,  but  as  she  had  been  when  awakened  to  him 
and  to  the  flash  of  pagan  life  which  they  had  en 
joyed  together.  He  closed  his  eyes,  and  the  roar 
of  the  train  and  the  swish  of  the  wind  sank  into 
quietness.  It  was  dark,  a  summer-scented  dark 
ness  and  silence,  out  of  which  thrilled  the  two 
voices  of  the  nightingales.  Their  song  bubbled 
and  swelled,  thrilled,  chuckled,  languished,  silver 
threads  against  the  black  velvet  of  night.  A  soft, 
tender  figure  wrapped  in  his  coat  snuggled  close 
beside  him;  a  quiet  voice,  awed,  ravished  by  the 
music,  whispered,  "  They  call  one  to  another ! " 
.  .  .  That  seemed  the  real  Toni,  although  she 
seemed  dead  to  him  now,  and  far  away ;  the  other, 
upon  whom  his  thoughts  now  dwelt  without  dis 
may,  seemed  unreal  and  shadowy.  The  night  in 
Maxim's  was  like  a  bad  dream;  it  was  not  true. 
He  was  thinking  of  it  quite  clearly,  when  suddenly 


THE  HOUSE  ON   THE  ROCK          379 

he  thought,  "  What  is  she  doing  at  this  moment  ?  " 
and  with  a  wave  of  sickening  weakness  he  realized 
that  she  was  not  dead,  but  living.  This  thought 
also  he  faced,  but  was  surprised  to  find  how  unreal 
it  was  to  him.  An  old  saying  of  Sir  Thomas 
Browne's  came  into  his  head  —  "  Afflictions  induce 
callosities."  The  flying  wheels  of  the  train  took 
up  the  word:  callosities,  callosities,  callosities, 
until  he  lost  the  sense  of  it,  and  the  whole  sentence 
sounded  like  gibberish. 

A  glimpse  of  white  and  angry  sea  brought  him 
back  to  himself  and  his  destination.  The  gale 
was  increasing,  and  he  often  heard  it  above  the 
roaring  of  the  train,  like  the  soft  brushing  of 
wings  against  the  roof  of  the  carriage.  The  sun, 
travelling  westward  with  them,  now  shone  brightly 
from  a  sky  almost  empty  of  clouds,  and  Eichard 
began  to  find  an  exhilarating  correspondence  be 
tween  its  anger  and  his  own  stormy  thoughts,  in 
the  centre  of  which,  as  in  a  calm,  he  seemed  to 
live  in  a  dream.  He  went  into  the  luncheon-car 
and  ate  mechanically,  watching  the  dull,  stolid 
people  hungrily  following  the  waiters  about  with 
their  eyes,  and  bolting  with  ill-concealed  greed 
their  portions  of  the  badly  cooked  food.  At  other 
times  it  would  have  amused  him;  now  he  saw 
them  merely  as  grotesque  and  shadowy  actors  in 
the  drama  of  life  which,  in  spite  of  his  disincli 
nation  for  it,  persisted  before  his  eyes. 

When  he  returned  to  his  carriage  he  found  that 


380  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

some  one  had  left  a  West  of  England  newspaper; 
and  there  on  the  front  page  his  eye  caught  an 
advertisement,  to  the  appearing  of  which  he  had 
often  looked  forward: 

"  NOTICE  TO  MARINERS.  —  The  Elder  Brethren 
of  the  Trinity  hereby  give  notice  that  a  Light 
house  has  been  erected  on  the  Outer  Snail  Eock, 
Poltesco  Head,  Cornwall,  and  that  a  Light  will 
be  exhibited  there  on  the  night  of  October  1  next, 
and  every  night  thereafter  from  Sunset  to  Sunrise 
until  further  notice.  The  light  will  be  visible 
from  E.  by  N.  %  X.  to  SYvr.  %  W.  Southerly,  and 
will  be  known  to  Mariners  as  a  Eevolving  Light, 
appearing  as  a  Bright  Flash,  every  10  seconds, 
the  duration  of  the  Flash  being  1  second,  and  of 
Eclipse  9  seconds.  To  a  near  observer  in  favor 
able  circumstances  the  Light  will  not  wholly  dis 
appear  between  the  Flashes.  The  Light  is  situ 
ated  120  feet  above  H.  W.  spring  tides,  and  is 
visible  in  clear  weather  at  a  distance  of  seventeen 
ISTautic  miles.  It  is  situated  in  Lat.  50°  0'  15", 
and  Long.  5°  6'  10",  and  bears  from  the  Eddy- 
stone  Eock  W.  y8  S.  341/2  miles,  and  from  Ushant 
K  by  E.  %  E.  921/2  miles.  It  is  High  Water  at 
the  Outer  Snail  Eock  at  Full  and  Change  of  the 
Moon,  5  hrs.  11  m." 

And  every  night  thereafter!  That  was  a  bold 
statement,  but  there  was  something  grand  in  its 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE  ROCK  381 

calm  confidence.  He  read  the  notice  with  a  curi 
ous  feeling  of  detachment,  almost  as  a  stranger 
might  read  it,  and  the  nautical  details,  so  utterly 
without  interest  to  the  landsman,  presented  it  to 
him  from  a  new  aspect.  He  had  always  thought 
of  the  tower  from  his  own  point  of  view,  and  had 
always  seen  it  from  the  rocks  or  from  the  coast: 
now  he  saw  it  as  the  mariner  saw  it,  a  low  bright 
star  far  away  on  a  horizon  of  tumbling  sea, 
beckoning  toward  home  and  safety.  But  his 
thoughts  came  back  to  the  words  "and  every 
night  thereafter,  from  Sunset  to  Sunrise."  Had 
he  really  had  a  hand  in  a  work  so  permanent? 
Had  he  really  lighted  a  star  whose  shining  and 
eclipsing  was  determined  by  things  so  everlasting 
and  punctual  as  sunset  and  sunrise?  To  be  thus 
involved  with  the  rising  and  the  setting  of  the 
sun,  to  have  geared  up  to  that  great  machinery 
a  thing  which,  however  unconsciously,  it  would 
be  compelled  to  work,  pleased  his  fancy  for  a 
moment  and  gave  him  a  sense  of  partnership  in 
eternal  concerns.  .  .  .  And  then  his  thoughts 
swung  around  again  to  Toni,  and  clung  to  her; 
it  was  heavenly  rest  to  forget  everything,  to  make 
no  struggle,  but  to  shut  his  eyes  and  believe  that 
she  was  close  to  him.  Without  her  he  felt  that 
nothing  else  was  of  interest  or  mattered  to  him  at 
all.  He  thought  with  bitterness  that  it  was  only 
necessary  for  the  lighthouse  to  be  thrown  down 
by  the  gale  for  the  whole  of  his  life  to  crumble 


382  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

away  in  failure;  yet  his  sense  of  the  additional 
disaster  that  the  ruin  of  the  lighthouse  would  be 
did  not  help  him  to  see  how  much  really  remained 
in  his  life.  And  as  the  train  hurried  and  swung 
along  he  was  thus  being  preyed  upon  by  his  mind 
and  his  heart,  his  mind  telling  him  practical  and 
unlovely  truths,  his  heart  yearning  for  her  whom 
he  had  lost.  The  very  sight  of  the  trees  tossing 
in  the  wind,  and  every  suggestion  of  natural 
beauty  in  the  passing  landscape,  filled  him  with 
that  nostalgia  of  joy  which  is  one  of  the  death- 
struggles  of  youth,  and  marks  the  passage  of  our 
life  into  a  grayer  region.  Yet  all  he  felt,  he  felt 
as  one  in  a  fever,  in  a  dream.  He  was  conscious 
only  of  an  intense  desire  to  press  forward,  to  do 
the  next  thing;  he  felt  as  though  he  were  waiting 
for  some  striking  and  significant  event. 

As  the  afternoon  wore  on,  the  wind  continued 
to  rise.  At  Saltash  only  had  it  seemed  calm; 
over  those  deep-sheltered  arms  of  the  sea,  where 
the  old  warships  lie  dreaming  at  their  landlocked 
moorings,  no  wind  seems  ever  to  blow,  and  the 
deep  green  water  was  scarcely  ruffled.  But  out  at 
Dawlish  the  sea  was  white  with  foam,  and  was 
breaking  angrily  over  the  warm  red  Devon  earth, 
bursting  on  the  sea-wall  and  showering  spray 
over  the  windows  and  roofs  of  the  carriages  as 
they  tore  past.  The  rain  had  ceased,  and  as  they 
wound  through  Cornwall  it  had  hardened  into  a 
strong,  dry  gale  from  the  southeast.  Whenever 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE   ROCK          383 

the  train  stopped  at  some  wayside  station  on  that 
wild  line,  it  was  shaken  and  buffeted  by  the  gusts. 
At  Lostwithiel  a  tree  had  been  blown  down  outside 
the  station ;  at  Truro  the  train  was  half  an  hour 
late,  and  an  extra  engine  had  to  be  put  on.  When 
at  last  Eichard  changed  at  Gwinear  Eoad,  the  sun 
was  setting  amid  a  wrack  of  flying  clouds  that 
promised  more  rather  than  less  wind.  The  gale 
howled  around  the  desolate  little  station  where  he 
had  to  wait,  while  apparently  endless  shunting 
evolutions  were  performed  by  the  Helston  train; 
but  at  last  they  were  off,  and  running  through  the 
more  sheltered  valleys  that  traverse  the  neck  of 
the  great  promontory. 

At  Helston  a  carriage  with  two  good  horses  was 
waiting  for  him,  and  he  set  off,  well  wrapped  up, 
in  the  gathering  dusk  along  the  bleak  road  toward 
the  Lizard.  The  leaves,  many-colored  still  in  the 
fading  light,  were  scattering  before  the  wind.  The 
storm  meant  havoc  in  gardens,  and  an  end  of 
summer;  when  it  passed  it  would  leave  autumn 
where  summer  had  been.  The  likeness  to  his  own 
life  was  too  obvious  to  be  missed  by  Eichard,  who 
felt  storm  and  autumn  together  in  his  heart,  but 
did  not  at  the  moment  realize  that  great  winds 
may  sweep  away  more  than  dying  flowers  and 
leaves,  and  that  autumn  is  the  foundation  of 
spring  as  well  as  the  ruins  of  summer.  Darkness 
fell  before  they  had  half-covered  the  thirteen 
miles  —  a  gross  starless  darkness,  in  which  the 


384  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

carriage  lamps  made  moving  fields  of  light  where 
the  shadows  of  trees  and  hedges  tossed. 

At  last,  across  the  wildest  part  of  the  downs, 
the  ground  began  gradually  to  fall,  and  Eichard 
began  to  watch.  For  some  time  he  saw  nothing; 
but  at  a  turn  of  the  road  he  suddenly  caught  a 
white  glow  in  the  sky.  It  disappeared  instantly, 
and  came  again;  and  then,  as  the  carriage  turned 
into  the  road  toward  Poltesco  Head,  he  had  a  full 
view  of  what  he  had  come  so  far  to  see.  From  a 
distant  point  in  the  black  night  a  white  star 
shone  out,  wheeled  in  a  forty-mile  spoke  across 
the  sky,  and  disappeared.  Some  horses  in  a  field 
began  to  whinny  and  stampede;  and  whenever 
the  light  flashed  around  again  it  showed  a  fright 
ened  crowd  of  cattle  huddled  together  in  a  corner, 
lowing  and  blowing  with  wonder. 

"  The  stock  don't  seem  to  like  it  much,  sir,"  said 
the  driver  with  an  air  of  uttering  the  last  word 
of  wisdom,  as  he  whipped  up  his  own  shying 
horses.  "  It  don't  belong  to  make  so  much  blazin' 
over  the  land.  But  it  do  look  pretty  enough,  sure, 
so  long  as  it  do  no  harm  to  the  stock." 

"  Oh,  drive  on !  "  said  Eichard,  who  was  far  too 
excited  to  notice  what  the  man  said.  "  Hurry  up, 
or  I  won't  be  in  time."  And  the  two  specks  of 
light  from  the  lamps  went  on  through  the  wild 
night,  under  the  great  wheeling  rays  in  the  sky. 
As  the  carriage  passed  a  dip  in  the  downs  Eichard 
caught  a  glimpse  of  lights  twinkling  in  the  Her- 


THE  HOUSE   ON   THE   ROCK          385 

mitage.  The  sight  of  them  gave  him  a  momen 
tary  sense  of  pleasure  and  warmth  at  the  heart. 
They  represented,  he  felt  sure,  a  friendship  the 
thought  of  which  was  curiously  grateful  to  him. 

Under  the  lee  of  the  storehouse  on  Poltesco 
Head  a  little  group  of  men,  including  several 
members  of  the  life-boat  crew,  was  sheltering, 
occasionally  darting  out  into  the  wind  to  take 
another  look  at  the  light,  which  looked  from  this 
near  point  like  a  great  revolving  chrysalis  of  glass 
and  silver,  and  hurrying  back  with  an  impression 
or  an  opinion.  Only  old  Treleath,  his  back  bent 
to  the  gale,  remained  exposed,  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  ghostly  tower  with  its  capital  of  light  that 
shone  across  the  yeasty  foam.  As  one  employed 
on  the  works  his  utterances  were  received  with 
more  than  usual  respect. 

"  Well,  souls,"  he  shouted,  slowly,  "  there  he  be, 
established  for  good  an'  all,  thanks  to  we.  Once 
every  ten  seconds,  till  kingdom  do  come,  Amen." 

"  Ay,  so  et  be,  so  et  be,"  said  Johns  the  Post 
master,  feeling  that  some  comment  was  required 
of  an  educated  man. 

"  I  call  to  mind,"  continued  Treleath,  "  the  last 
measure  of  mortar  I  mixed  for  en.  I  run  short 
of  Pozzylanny,1  and  I  sez  to  myself,  '  Shall  I  fill 
en  up  with  lime?  'Twould  be  a  great  saving  o' 
labor/  But  I  sez,  '  No/  sez  I,  *  Mr.  Macneil,  he 
1  (Sic)  Pozzolano  earth. 


386  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

sez,  "  One  measure  of  lime,  one  o'  sand,  and  one  o' 
Pozzylanny,  Treleath,  or  you'll  bring  the  tower 
down."  '  So  up  I  goes  and  fetches  the  Pozzylanny, 
and  mixes  all  true  and  just,  '  or/  sez  I,  '  I  could 
never  sleep  in  my  bed  o'  windy  nights.'  So  true 
and  just  I  mixed  en,  and  there  'e  do  stand,  to  be 
sure,"  pointing  to  the  result  of  his  integrity. 

"Ay,  to  be  sure  'e  do,"  said  an  acquiescent 
voice,  "  fair  and  square,  to  be  sure." 

Joseph  Gilbert,  the  coxswain  of  the  life-boat, 
now  spoke,  knocking  the  ashes  from  his  pipe  and 
watching  the  sparks  streaming  away  on  the  wind. 

"  Well,  boys,"  he  said,  "  what  about  we  ?  There 
won't  be  so  many  jobs  for  we,  I  reckon." 

"  No,  nor  so  many  pickin's  in  the  cove,"  said  an 
old  man.  "  Time  was  when  every  gale  brought 
ets  wreck;  but  what  with  they  life-boats,  and 
lighthouses,  and  Macaroni  poles,  we  don't  seem  to 
make  use  of  nothen  now.  'Tis  changed  times  to 
Poltesco  for  we  ancient  ones." 

"Ay,  but  gov'nment  must  have  ets  turn, 
Willum,"  said  another,  evidently  regarding  the 
lighthouse  as  a  kind  of  rival  wrecking  organiza 
tion.  "  Let  all  have  a  turn." 

"  That's  but  just  and  fair,  friends,"  assented 
Johns,  who  having  drawn  government  money  for 
twelve  years  felt  he  was  called  upon  to  acknowl 
edge  this  tribute.  "But  'tis  strange  that  Mr. 
Grey  bean't  down  to  Poltesco  to  see  the  light  lit." 

"  Mr.  Grey's  a-comen  all  right,"  said  Treleath. 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE   ROCK          387 

"  Harry  have  taken  the  carriage  to  Helston  for 
en.  They  belong  to  be  here  soon  now." 

There  was  silence  for  awhile  except  for  the 
howling  of  the  wind  and  the  roar  of  the  surf. 
The  men  all  huddled  under  the  wall  with  the  ex 
ception  of  Treleath,  who  stayed  out  where  he  could 
see  the  lighthouse.  The  bright  revolving  rays, 
striking  on  him  every  ten  seconds,  lit  up  his  pale 
face  and  blue  watery  eyes  directed  toward  the 
tower,  which  he  gazed  at  in  ecstasy,  heedless  of 
the  spray  that  tingled  in  his  face.  He  was  mur 
muring  to  himself  over  and  over  again  in  a  kind 
of  chant,  "  I  made  he  to  be  so  stout  as  he  be !  I 
made  he  to  be  so  stout  as  he  be ! " 

Presently  the  sound  of  wheels  was  heard  grating 
over  the  rough  road,  and  lamps  shone  in  the  dark 
ness.  The  carriage  drew  up,  and  discharged,  first, 
a  large  bundle  swathed  in  shawls,  the  partial  un 
winding  of  which  disclosed  Mrs.  Treleath.  She 
immediately  rushed  toward  the  bent  old  man,  her 
high  voice  mingling  with  the  wind. 

"  There  he  be,  that  tender  dear,  all  in  the  storm 
and  wetness,  and  his  supper  set  for  him  at  home, 
and  his  warm  bed  a-waiten;  and  never  should  1 
have  prevailed  with  the  wind  but  for  Mr.  Grey 
a-taking  mercy  on  me,  and  me  riden  in  the  car 
riage  with  he,  for  all  the  world  to  see !  Come  out 
of  the  light,  my  lovey,  and  don't  get  struck  by  the 
fluid."  She  drew  him  tenderly  aside  toward  the 
shelter,  humoring  his  reluctance.  "  Ay,  beautiful 


388  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

it  do  look,  to  be  sure,  tender  dear,  and  a  lovely 
ornament  to  the  coast  it  do  make.  To  think  that 
such  should  be !  " 

Richard  had  meanwhile  got  out  his  portman 
teau,  and  had  gone  over  to  the  lightkeepers' 
houses.  He  stood  for  a  moment  in  the  flood  of 
light  from  the  open  door,  talking  to  the  men.  A 
glance  had  shown  him  that  the  tide  had  only  just 
turned,  and  that  the  outer  rocks  were  bare  but 
for  a  fleece  of  foam  that  swept  over  them,  while 
over  the  angry  chasm  of  deep  water  that  separated 
the  nearest  rock  from  the  cliff  the  wire  rope  of 
the  travelling  cradle  stretched  out  into  the  dark 
ness. 

"  Come  along,  boys,  and  sling  me  out,"  he 
shouted.  "  I  must  go  out  to  the  light.  Treleath, 
you  be  off  home  to  bed.  The  carriage  will  take 
you  and  your  wife  home.  There's  nothing  more 
to  see." 

The  men,  timid  on  his  account,  remonstrated, 
but  he  brushed  aside  their  fears,  and  was  soon 
suspended  in  the  cradle,  sliding  down  toward  the 
bare  black  rocks  and  the  swirling  foam  beyond. 
Safely  landed,  he  shouted  back  to  the  cliff  reas 
suringly,  and  began  the  really  difficult  part  of  his 
task.  The  rocks  were  never  uncovered  for  more 
than  a  moment,  as  the  breakers  that  were  split 
up  and  divided  by  the  outer  reef  met  again  in 
foam  over  them;  but  he  knew  every  foothold, 
though  he  was  often  up  to  his  knees  in  water.  He 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE  ROCK          389 

was  partly  sheltered  from  the  full  force  of  the 
wind,  which  was  in  any  case  moderating,  although 
sometimes  it  caught  him  in  sudden  claps  that 
threatened  to  knock  him  down.  The  real  danger, 
as  he  clambered  farther  and  farther  out,  lay  in 
the  waves,  which  now  and  then  broke  solid  on  the 
rocks,  and  swept  green  water  right  over  them. 
The  iron  hand-rail  that  guarded  the  causeway 
was  in  this  case  his  only  hope,  and  it,  little  as  it 
opposed  the  weight  of  the  waves,  vibrated  with 
every  breaking  of  a  billow.  If  he  had  not  known 
exactly  the  nature  of  every  level  and  shelf  of  rock 
on  which  he  was  walking,  his  situation  would  have 
been  terrifying,  for  though  the  rocks  were  nomi 
nally  bare  at  low  water,  the  high  wind  and  heavy 
sea  covered  them  now  with  three  feet  of  tortured 
and  frothing  spume.  As  it  was,  it  was  daunting 
enough  to  be  thus  walking  apparently  on  a  stormy 
sea;  and  the  heaving  rollers,  as  they  came  up 
towering  and  glimmering  out  of  the  black  night, 
and  thundering  into  spray,  seemed  every  time  as 
though  they  would  overwhelm  him.  The  rays 
from  the  tower  were  too  high  above  his  head  to 
illuminate  his  path,  and  he  walked  in  a  gross 
darkness  that  was  only  relieved  by  the  ghostly 
glimmer  of  the  foam.  Twice  he  was  drenched  in 
green  water  from  head  to  foot,  and  had  to  cling 
for  his  life  to  the  hand-rail;  but  when  he  at  last 
got  on  to  the  Outer  Snail,  the  higher  level  of  the 
rock,  and  the  shelter  it  afforded,  made  his  path 


390  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

easier,  so  that  he  arrived  safely,  although 
drenched,  and  a  little  bruised  and  exhausted, 
under  the  lee  of  the  tower.  He  climbed  the  iron 
ladder,  opened  the  heavy  oak  door,  and  thankfully 
shook  himself  free  from  some  of  the  salt  water. 

He  climbed  through  the  tank-room  and  store 
room,  and  opened  the  kitchen  door.  A  flood  of 
light  and  warmth  greeted  him.  Outside  the  gale 
was  howling,  and  the  seas  bursting  on  the  seaward 
side  of  the  tower;  but  here  all  was  warmth  and 
peace,  a  bright  fire  glowing,  a  kettle  singing  on 
the  range,  pots  and  pans  shining  on  the  dresser, 
and  an  open  book  under  the  lamp  on  the  table, 
where  some  one  had  evidently  been  reading.  How 
peaceful  and  sheltered  it  was!  A  lump  rose  in 
Kichard's  throat,  and  his  eyes  became  misty  as 
this  sudden  lamp-lit  picture  of  simple,  innocent 
life  succeeded  the  anger  and  commotion  of  the 
stormy  night  outside.  It  was  like  a  modulation 
in  music,  as  when  a  quiet,  tender  melody  emerges 
from  the  sudden  hush  that  follows  a  tempest  of 
the  orchestra.  And  it  was  he  who  had  raised  that 
home  in  the  air  amid  the  spray  and  the  breaking 
waves ! 

Eeluctantly  he  left  the  kitchen,  and  climbed 
another  story  into  the  keepers'  bedrooms,  where 
he  nearly  frightened  the  assistant  keeper  —  off 
duty  and  arranging  his  wardrobe  in  the  cupboards 
—  out  of  his  wits.  Here  he  had  a  rub  down, 
changed,  and,  clad  in  the  assistant  keeper's  best 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE  ROCK          391 

uniform,  climbed  up  again  through  the  second 
sleeping  berth  and  the  oil  store  into  the  light- 
room.  He  paused  for  a  moment  at  the  top  of  the 
ladder,  with  his  head  just  above  the  floor,  and 
stood  looking  up  into  the  room. 

On  its  metal  stage  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
floating  in  a  bath  of  mercury,  the  great  glittering 
lens  revolved  noiselessly  about  the  lamp.  The 
toothed  brass  wheels  of  the  clock  that  moved  it 
turned,  regularly,  slowly,  noiselessly  also;  there 
was  no  sound  but  the  humming  of  the  wind  around 
the  glass  lantern,  the  roar  of  the  hot  air  from  the 
lamp,  and  the  occasional  dull  boom  of  a  breaking 
wave  beneath.  Around  and  around,  like  a  great 
jewel,  went  the  fairy  structure  of  crystal  bars  and 
segments  and  lenses,  collecting  every  ray  of  light, 
and  shooting  them  out  in  long  parallel  beams  into 
the  night.  And  within  the  magic  cage,  reverberat 
ing  with  the  very  essence  of  life,  holy  and  invio 
lable,  hovered  the  soul  of  the  lighthouse  in  its 
sheet  of  pure  white  flame.  In  every  surface  of 
the  circling  mirrors  it  took  its  centre,  like  the 
point  of  fire  that  lurks  behind  every  facet  of  a 
diamond:  a  thousand  fires  within  one  fire;  a 
thousand  lights,  and  yet  but  one  light.  A  foun 
tain  of  flame  welled  from  the  invisible  centre, 
overflowing  and  dripping  with  light;  yet  every 
drop  of  it,  every  straying  sliver  of  liquid  fire,  was 
caught  up  and  saved  by  the  carefully  angled  mir 
rors,  and  poured  forth  in  long  raying  beams  to 


392  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

the  far-away  horizon,  where  the  ships  were  driving 
and  plunging  through  the  storm.  Beside  it  sat 
the  slave  of  the  lamp,  its  minister  and  guardian; 
now  pumping  from  the  immense  oil  reservoirs 
below  fresh  streams  of  vitality  to  its  passionate 
heart,  now  winding  up  with  a  winch  the  mys 
terious  creature  of  cog-wheels  and  springs  that 
kept  it  in  circling  motion  and  timed  the  flashes 
of  its  unsleeping  eye;  now  sitting  quietly  beside 
it,  observant  of  its  wheeling  rays  against  the 
darkness. 

A  sense  of  solemnity,  sudden  and  profound,  held 
Richard's  feet  upon  the  threshold,  as  before  the 
steps  of  a  shrine.  He  seemed  to  be  in  the  pres 
ence  of  a  spirit,  silent  and  all-seeing.  What  had 
he  done  ?  What  creature  had  he  called  into  being, 
that  thus  seemed  to  search  into  his  soul,  and  sol 
emnly  to  interrogate  him  with  a  gaze  that  included 
the  whole  visible  heaven  and  earth?  For  a  few 
minutes  he  stood  there  spellbound,  hypnotized 
as  it  were  by  the  spirit  of  his  work.  Then  he 
reminded  himself  of  how  many  lighthouses  he  had 
been  in,  and  shaking  himself  free  of  his  preoccu 
pation,  came  up  and  greeted  the  lightkeeper. 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Evans ;  well,  how's  she 
doing?" 

"  God's  sake,  Mr.  Grey,  I  thought  you  were  a 
ghost !  "  quavered  the  man,  on  whose  nerves  many 
years'  service  on  rock  lights  had  had  their  effect. 
"  How  in  the  world  did  you  come  off,  sir  ?  " 


THE  HOUSE   ON    THE   ROCK  393 

Richard  described  his  journey,  and  then  re 
peated  his  question  about  the  light. 

"  Everything's  very  good  indeed,  sir,  couldn't  be 
better.  The  timing's  a  little  irregular  now  and 
then,  —  once  in  half  an  hour,  perhaps,  she  drops 
a  second,  —  but  that's  only  the  governor;  we'll 
put  that  right  in  the  morning." 

"  Do  you  notice  any  shaking  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing,  sir.  This  afternoon,  at  high 
water,  there  was  a  little  vibration  when  a  heavy 
sea  struck  her,  and  we  may  feel  it  again  toward 
morning  when  the  wind  falls  and  the  swell  gets 
up ;  but  it's  nothing  to  the  Smalls  or  the  Bishop, 
sir ! " 

"  Well,  you'll  have  a  chance  of  finding  that  out 
in  winter.  There's  no  weight  in  this  gale.  I'm 
going  out  on  the  balcony." 

The  heavy  gun-metal  door  on  the  shoreward 
side  of  the  lantern  was  opened,  and  Richard 
stepped  out  once  more  into  the  shouting  night. 
With  difficulty  he  made  his  way  around  to  the  sea 
ward  side  of  the  balcony,  and  stood  full  in  the 
gale.  Even  above  the  roaring  it  made  in  his  ears 
he  could  hear  it  howling  and  humming  against 
the  metal  ventilator  and  crying,  with  wild,  lost 
cries,  around  the  flagstaff  and  the  slatting  cords. 
Behind  him,  his  mysterious  creature  circled  and 
shone  like  a  sun;  before  him  lay  the  storm  and 
the  night,  with  the  long  pencils  of  light  pointing 
and  wheeling  across  it.  At  his  feet  the  glimmer 


394  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

of  the  foam  showed  up  the  angry  sea,  forever 
advancing  its  great  dark  waves  up  to  the  rock, 
crashing  and  thundering  upon  it,  and  licking 
hungrily  up  the  white  shapely  side  of  the  tower. 
Steadily  and  powerfully  as  they  marched  in,  a 
new  one  rising  where  another  fell;  eternal  and 
infinite  as  was  the  force  that  led  their  endless 
ranks  to  the  assault,  though  they  struck,  em 
braced,  hurled  themselves  in  solid  ranks,  shot  hiss 
ing  tongues  to  destroy,  bellowed  and  foamed  in 
their  grand  and  melancholy  rage,  yet  they  crum 
bled  harmlessly  against  the  tower's  smooth  sides, 
and  sank  back  exhausted  before  its  serene  immo 
bility.  As  Eichard  leaned  against  the  balcony-rail 
looking  upon  this  grand  and  dark  scene,  a  sense 
of  healing  and  peace  began  to  inhabit  his  soul. 
He  stood  motionless,  entranced,  not  counting 
time,  unconscious  almost  of  space,  alone  in  the 
dark  firmament  with  the  splendid  sun  of  his 
kindling. 

The  wind,  now  beginning  sensibly  to  diminish 
in  force,  poured  over  him  a  stream  of  freshness, 
soft  and  mellow  for  all  its  weight,  and  without 
sting  or  bitterness.  And  as  it  blew,  it  seemed  to 
blow  through  and  through  him,  in  deep  cleans 
ing  and  renewing  draughts.  He  bared  himself  to 
its  influence,  bared  even  his  secret  wound  to  it, 
and  felt  the  passion  and  the  poison  passing  from 
his  heart.  He  thought  deliberately  of  Toni,  and, 
although  he  was  so  far  away,  in  circumstances  so 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE   ROCK          395 

utterly  different  from  hers,  he  felt  nearer  to  her 
than  he  had  ever  felt  before.  He  watched  the  ray 
ing  beams  of  light  as  in  their  travel  around  the 
horizon  they  pointed  toward  France;  and  even 
across  the  wild  chasm  of  night  and  miles  that  lay 
between  them,  he  felt  that  they  flung  a  bridge, 
impassable  by  mortal  feet,  over  which  his  spirit 
and  hers  might  pass,  and  meet  in  an  understand 
ing  of  truths  beyond  regret  and  beyond  illusion. 
He  thought  now  of  her  loss  without  bitterness, 
and  saw  how  inevitable  it  had  always  been ;  yet  he 
still  thought  of  the  finding  of  her,  even  for  so 
short  a  time,  as  great  gain.  Some  part  of  her, 
the  best  of  her  perhaps,  he  knew  that  he  had  made 
his  own,  still  possessed,  and  held  forever  inde 
pendently  of  any  action  of  hers ;  he  felt,  too,  that 
she  had  made  something  of  him  that  was  not 
there  before,  something  new  in  him  that  was  her 
own,  and  that  he  could  not  destroy  or  take  away 
even  if  he  would.  Things  that  last !  He  realized 
how  he  had  always,  all  through  his  life,  had  a 
passion  for  them;  and  he  remembered  how  Mar 
garet  Lauder  had  accused  him  of  caring  most  for 
things  that  "  did  not  love  him  back  again."  Was 
it  true?  He  hardly  knew,  and  yet  his  work,  the 
things  he  made  with  his  brain,  they  did  not  love 
him  in  return;  and  this  Toni  of  his  imagination, 
she  did  not  any  longer  love  him  in  return,  either ; 
yet  he  possessed  her  more  completely  than  when 
she  had  loved  him.  He  felt  that  the  sundering 


396  THE   SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

of  himself  from  her  in  the  flesh,  from  the  body 
that  he  had  worshipped  with  his  own,  was  but 
the  shedding  and  stripping  away  of  the  beautiful 
leaves  and  petals,  so  that  the  seed,  the  imperish 
able  heart,  might  find  its  place  in  the  soil. 

So  also,  as  the  dark  hours  passed,  and  the  light 
continued  to  burn  and  shine  like  a  sun  in  the 
stormy  sky,  he  became  conscious  of  an  ever-grow 
ing  kindness  for  it  and  for  the  tower,  a  feeling 
of  strength  rooted  in  the  labor  of  his  hands. 
Sometimes  he  went  into  the  light-room  and  sat 
for  awhile  with  the  keeper,  watching  the  regular 
working  of  the  clockwork,  timing  the  revolving 
flashes,  rejoicing  in  the  pure  steady  flame  within 
the  lens;  and  sometimes  he  would  go  down  and 
stand  at  the  open  door,  and  watch  the  waves 
foaming  and  raging  helplessly  against  the  smooth 
walls  of  the  tower.  As  the  small  hours  passed 
away  the  storm  sank  and  waned,  moaning  itself 
away  in  sobs  as  its  passion  exhausted  itself.  But 
with  the  falling  of  the  wind  the  sea  rose,  and  as 
the  tide  rose  also  about  the  tower,  it  was  struck 
repeatedly  by  heavy  seas  with  a  noise  like  the 
explosion  of  artillery.  A  faint  tremor  passed 
through  it  at  the  heaviest  of  these  assaults,  but 
it  was  the  tremor  of  elastic  strength,  that  can 
bend  a  little  to  resist  an  attack.  And  whenever 
Richard  looked  seaward  toward  the  murk  and 
tumult  and  waste  of  desolate  sea,  he  rejoiced  in 
the  strong  clear  beam  sweeping  over  the  waters. 


THE   HOUSE   ON    THE  ROCK          397 

Its  regular  passage  soothed  and  heartened  him 
infinitely.  Once  or  twice  he  saw  the  lights  of 
passing  ships  twinkling  in  the  darkness,  and  once 
a  glare,  followed  by  a  succession  of  fiery  stars,  — 
red,  green,  and  white,  —  showed  a  steamer  mak 
ing  her  signal  to  Lloyd's.  He  knew  what  the 
lighthouse  meant  to  them  and  to  all  who  used  that 
stormy  highway,  and  he  felt  himself  invested 
with  something  of  the  dignity  of  its  simple  use 
fulness. 

Just  before  dawn  he  went  out  again  to  the  bal 
cony,  and  watched  the  gray  daylight  filter  and 
spread  through  the  darkness.  As  it  increased, 
the  rays  from  the  light  fell  shorter  and  fainter, 
helpless  to  prevail,  for  all  their  power,  against  the 
light  that  was  coming.  Out  of  the  gloom  rose 
the  coasts  and  the  land,  and  with  the  falling  of 
the  wind  and  the  absence  of  its  salt  odors,  the 
smell  from  the  earth  came  off,  rich  and  fragrant 
in  the  morning  air.  The  waves,  unf retted  by  the 
wind,  rolled  in  deep  and  heavy,  at  first  a  dull 
gray,  and  then,  as  the  light  increased,  a  furrowed 
sea  of  deepest  indigo.  The  eastern  horizon  was 
banked  with  clouds,  above  which  the  reflection 
of  the  hidden  fires  of  dawn  began  to  wash  the 
sky  with  opalescent  tints,  and  to  kindle  a  glow 
of  saffron  on  the  crests  of  the  breaking  waves. 
Suddenly  behind  him  Eichard  heard  a  click;  the 
glare  ceased,  and  the  roar  of  the  ventilator  died 
away. 


398  THE  SANDS   OF  PLEASURE 

"  Sunrise,  sir,"  said  the  lightkeeper,  with  his 
watch  in  his  hand ;  and  together  they  looked  east 
ward,  where  an  edge  of  gold  was  eating  into  the 
banked  clouds  on  the  horizon.  Overhead  and 
behind  them  the  sky  was  still  dark  and  gloomy; 
but  before  them  the  eastern  banks  were  breaking 
up  and  leaving  the  sky  clear  for  the  morning  that 
welled,  ever  warmer  and  more  golden,  behind  the 
torn  veil  of  the  storm. 

EUAN  MINOR,  October,  1905. 


THE  2ND. 


PUBLICATIONS  OF  THE  ST.  BOTOLPH  SOCIETY 

53  BEACON  STREET  BOSTON,  MASSACHUSETTS 

THE  FAMOUS  SEA  STORIES  OF 

HERMAN  MELVILLE 

MOBY  DICK;  Or,  The  White  Whale. 
TYPEE.    A  Real  Romance  of  the  South  Sea. 
OMOO.    A  Narrative  of  Adventures  in  the 

South  Seas ;  a  sequel  to  TYPEE. 
WHITE  JACKET;  Or,  The  World  on  a  Man- 

of-War. 

Each  one  volume,  cloth  decorative, 
I2mo,  illustrated  $1.90 

*  I  AHE  recent  centenary  of  Herman  Melville 
JL  created  renewed  interest  in  his  famous 
sea  stories. 

Melville's  power  of  describing  and  investing 
with  romance,  scenes  and  incidents  witnessed 
and  participated  in  by  himself  was  unequalled. 
These  stories,  though  written  more  than  fifty 
years  ago,  are  more  attractive  than  ever,  and 
are  daily  growing  in  popularity. 

"Melville  wove  human  element  and  natural 
setting  into  recitals  which  aroused  the  enthu 
siasm  of  critics  and  sent  a  thrill  of  delight 
through  the  reading  public  when  first  pub 
lished,  and  which  both  for  form  and  matter 
have  ever  since  held  rank  as  classics  in  the 
literature  of  travel." — Boston  Herald. 


PUBLICATIONS  OF  THE  ST.  BOTOLPH  SOCIETY 

53  BEACON  STREET  BOSTON,  MASSACHUSETTS 

The  Sands  of  Pleasure 

By  FILSON  YOUNG 

Author  of  "The  Happy  Motorist"  "Venus  and  Cupid,  an 

Impression"  etc. 
Cloth  decorative,  ismo,  illustrated,  $1.65 

i  <  'T*HE  consciousness  of  doing  something  wrong  would 

A    make  it  ugly." 
"Morality  is  only  an  underbred  substitute  for  decency." 

These  two  quotations  from  THE  SANDS  OF  PLEA 
SURE  are  indicative  of  this  unusual  story  and  the  more 
unusual  point  of  view.  "I  had  a  story  to  tell,"  wrote  the 
author.  "I  have  told  it  as  well  as  I  knew  how — that 
ought  to  be  enough,  and  more  than  enough,  for  me  to  say 
about  this  book.  But  some  have  decreed,  with  what 
wisdom  I  do  not  pretend  to  measure,  that  this  subject  and 
that,  very  urgent  though  they  may  be  in  the  life  of  man, 
shall  not  be  written  or  read  about  in  books  designed 
merely  for  the  entertainment  of  his  mind.  I  have  disobeyed 
this  decree,  and  cast  a  great  part  of  my  tale  in  a  region  held 
to  be  out  of  bounds — Bohemia." 

It  is  a  story  of  Bohemia,  but  written  with  the  healthy 
enthusiasm  of  youth  for  all  there  is  in  life.  Much  of  the 
greatest  the  world  has  produced  in  art  and  literature  has 
been  born  of  the  Montmarte  and  the  Quartier  Latin,  but 
little  of  worth  has  been  written  about  them.  Murger's 
"La  Vie  de  Boheme"  was  a  great  romance.  Here  is  a  fine, 
realistic  novel. — "Nb  creator  nk  creatura  mai — fu  senza 
amore." 

"It  is  tense,  strong,  narrative,  and  descriptive  writing 
of  a  sort  that  is  wholly  admirable." — London  Graphic. 

"Mr.  Young  blends  the  artistic  with  the  realistic  and 
conjures  up  scenes  which  can  never  be  forgotten  by  the 
reader,  and  no  greater  praise  than  that  could  be  given  to 
a  writer." — Western  Morning  News,  Plymouth,  England. 


fir 


PUBLICATIONS  OF  THE  ST.  BOTOLPH  SOCIETY 

53  BEACON  STREET  BOSTON,  MASSACHUSETTS 


The  Making  sf  a  Saint 

By  W.  SOMERSET  MAUGHAM 

Author  of 

"The  Moon  and  Sixpence,"  "Of  Human  Bondage"  etc. 
Cloth  decorative,  I2tno,  illustrated, 


SOMERSET  MAUGHAM  has  attained  literary  fame 
^  and  popularity  with  the  reading  public  equalled  by 
few  English  writers.  His  plays  are  drawing  audiences  in 
every  city;  his  books  are  always  among  the  best  sellers;  so 
that  the  St.  Botolph  Society  shows  excellent  judgment 
in  selecting  his  THE  MAKING  OF  A  SAINT  for  the 
first  publication  to  carry  the  new  imprint. 

"THE  MAKING  OF  A  SAINT  is  a  romance  of  medi- 
seval  Italy.  None  can  resent  the  frankness  and  apparent 
brutality  of  the  scenes  through  which  the  hero  and  his 
companions  of  both  sexes  are  made  to  pass,  and  many  will 
yield  ungrudging  praise  to  the  author's  vital  handling  of 
the  truth."  —  Boston  Herald. 

"An  exceedingly  strong  story  of  original  motive  and 
design.  .  .  .  The  scenes  are  imbued  with  a  spirit  of 
frankness  .  .  .  and  in  addition  there  is  a  strong  dramatic 
flavor."  —  Philadelphia  Press. 

"A  sprightly  tale  abounding  in  adventures,  and  redolent 
with  the  spirit  of  mediaeval  Italy."  —  Brooklyn  Times. 


PUBLICATIONS  OF  THE  ST.  BOTOLPH  SOCIETY 

53  BEACON  STREET  BOSTON,  MASSACHUSETTS 


Edward  Barry 

A  ROMANCE   OF  THE   SOUTH   SEAS 

By  LOUIS  BECKE 

Cloth  decorative,  IS  mo,  illustrated,  $1.65. 

THE  rediscovery  of  Herman  Melville,  mariner  and  mys 
tic,  together  with  the  marked  popularity  of  South  Sea 
Island  travel  and  fiction  at  the  present  time,  makes  it 
timely  to  call  attention  to  another  writer  of  sea  tales,  of 
almost  equal  merit,  Louis  Becke. 

George  Louis  Becke,  born  in  New  South  Wales,  was  a 
trader  in  the  South  Sea  Islands  from  1870  to  1893.  When 
he  turned  to  writing  his  fame  was  instantaneous.  He  still 
remains  the  brightest  figure  in  Australian  letters.  His  style 
is  that  of  Stevenson,  and  his  narratives,  many  of  which 
have  the  intensity  of  autobiography,  and  the  authoritative- 
ness  of  personal  experience,  are  as  vivid  as  Conrad's.  His 
books  are  born  of  the  South  Seas  they  represent. 

EDWARD  BARRY  is  the  story  of  a  young  man,  mate 
of  a  small  brig,  engaged  in  the  pearl  fisheries.  Strong  and 
even  tragic,  as  is  the  novel  in  the  main,  the  love  and  devo 
tion  of  a  woman  is  portrayed  with  delicate  feeling.  Nowhere 
does  drama  and  romance  flourish  as  in  the  South  Seas,  and 
Louis  Becke  is  one  of  its  most  appealing  writers. 

"  For  a  rousing,  absorbing  and  withal  a  truthful  tale 
of  the  South  Seas,  commend  me  to  Louis  Becke. 
EDWARD  BARRY  is  one  of  the  best,  and  the  love 
romance  that  runs  through  it  will  be  appreciated  by 
every  one." —  Pliiladelphia  Nonk  American. 

TfL          , 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parking  Lot  17  •  Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


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